


None So Blind

by My_Trex_has_fleas



Series: Late Night Double Feature Picture Show [3]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Explicit Sexual Content, Ghosts, M/M, Post-World War I, The Awakening AU, things that go bump in the night - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-07 14:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14082873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/pseuds/My_Trex_has_fleas
Summary: Ross Poldark is a hunter of ghosts. He gets a strange request and travels to confront his past, even if he cannot remember it.





	1. A Summons

The house was a grand affair, set on a fine road opposite Kensington Gardens. 

Ross looked up at the façade as he came to stand in front of it. He hesitated on the step and then raised his hand and knocked. He stepped back and waited and soon enough he heard someone approach and then the door was cracked open by a woman dressed in simple housekeeper’s garb. 

‘Yes, sir?’ she asked and Ross smiled in what he hoped was a friendly manner. 

‘My name is Richard Palmer.’ He extracted a card from his pocket and handed it to her. ‘I am expected.’

The housekeeper took the invitation from him and studied him carefully before he opened the door the rest of the way. 

‘Please come in.’ she said and Ross stepped past her into the hall. There he handed over his hat and coat and she showed him to a front room. There were already other people gathered there and they all gave him slightly suspicious looks. Ross did his best to appear unprepossessing. After all, he’d worked hard on getting himself invited to this particular gathering and his real name would have been a dead giveaway of his intentions. He scanned the occupants of the room and considered them. 

There was a man in an army uniform, a middle aged couple and an elderly woman standing near the fireplace. By the window was a younger woman, her face pale and strained. She was accompanied by a severe looking woman, some years older than herself. 

He didn’t introduce himself to them and they kept to themselves. Ross knew why they were there, though. It was the very subject of his investigation. Like him, they had come seeking something from the man who lived here, something that would give them peace or comfort or something else they desperately wanted. 

‘Mr Palmer?’ He turned and saw a young woman standing behind him. She was soberly dressed, her auburn hair pinned in a severe fashion. ‘I am Miss Henshaw. You have the object we requested?’

‘Of course.’ He took the letter from his pocket and handed it to her. She put it in her own and then gave him a rather brittle smile. 

‘There is also the matter of our fee.’ she said. Ross nodded, and took another envelope from his coat. This one contained fifty pounds, a steep sum indeed and one that manner could scarcely afford to waste on broken promises. 

This envelope went the same way as the first and she left the room. Ross watched her go, then accepted a glass of sherry from the housekeeper, who was now coming around with a silver tray. He raised the glass, sniffing very surreptitiously and then moved towards the far side of the room. On the pretext of examining the bookshelf, he managed to tip the contents into the tall plant next to it and then waited until they were called. 

It came a few minutes later. Miss Henshaw came to the door and stood there as they all turned to look at her. 

‘He is ready for you.’ she announced and they set down their glasses and followed her out the room. 

She led them down the hall and into what was a much larger space. The windows here were draped with heavy velvet curtains that blocked out all the light. In the middle of the room was a polished circular table, its mahogany surface gleaming in the light cast by the fire and the lamps on the wall. There were arcane patterns drawn on its surface in chalk and lit candles arranged in a circle around it with a mirror set up in front of each of them. The other guests moved around it and Ross found himself between the army captain and the young woman. He pulled out her seat for her and she gave him a grateful smile. Ross nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t speak. Instead he took his own seat and waited. 

The door at the far side of the room opened and a man walked through. He was large of frame, his round face florid and sporting a pointed moustache, an embroidered robe over his suit. He went to take his seat at the table, and Miss Henshaw leaned down to whisper in his ear. He nodded and she walked to the sideboard and came back with another silver tray. This one bore several articles. Ross saw a garnet brooch, a dog’s collar, a handkerchief and his own letter. 

‘Life given, life returned. Life given, death lifted.’ the man intoned in a deep voice. The candles flickered and Ross felt his skin prickle. He kept his expression neutral as the man looked around their small circles. 

‘You have all come to seek that which cannot be found upon this earthly plane.’ he said. ‘But who shall be the one who is visited?’ He held out both hands and the people on either side of him took them. Ross copied the gesture, as did they all, until they were all linked. 

‘Momento Mori.’ The medium was looking at them all in turn. ‘Let the spirits come forth and make themselves known.’ 

There was an eerie moan from somewhere around them and they all flinched.

‘Momento Mori.’ The man began to chant and one by one they joined in. The feeling of air moving past him alerted Ross to a small shadow moving in one corner. He waited, biding his time. 

‘Who is searched for?’ the man asked. ‘Who is it that you seek?’

There was a gasp from the army man beside him and Ross looked at him, seeing blood now running from his nose. Next to him, the middle aged woman made a noise and then looked at the older woman on her other side who was similarly afflicted. She gave her husband a terrified look. 

‘It is you!’ The medium was now glaring at her. ‘Look into the mirror and see! Do not look away!’

‘The woman gave a choked off sob but did as he instructed and then her face crumpled as grief overcame her.

‘She’s here.’ She looked at her husband. ‘Oh, she’s here.’

‘Keep looking into the mirror.’ The medium ordered. 

‘Oh.’ The woman started to cry in earnest. ‘It’s our little girl. Florrie? It’s Mummy, darling? Can you hear me?’

‘She can hear you.’ The medium assured her. ‘Do not look away.’ 

Now Ross smiled to himself. Unlike the others, who were all completely enraptured by the little performance, he was simply waiting to hear what he was expecting and the thump of a door being broken through and then shouts as policemen stormed the room gave him the signal and he was up out of his chair in a trice, grabbing the smaller figure and holding on tightly to the ghost that had come to haunt her distraught parents. 

‘Got you.’ He twisted the arm he was holding and there was an indignant shriek. 

All around him, there was chaos as men charged into the room, yanking the curtains down and flooding the room with light as the other guests scrambled to their feet, only to find their way barricaded. 

A detective came into the room and Ross grinned at him. Dwight Enys was a good man, and his best friend. He had been the one who’d suggested that Ross aid him in the Met’s hunt for charlatan mediums, fleecing ordinary people of thousands of pounds and feeding off their grief for their own ends. 

‘Good work.’ He grinned as Ross handed off the girl, who was made up in white face paint and with what looked like cobwebs in her hair, to another policeman and then turned to the medium. ‘You are under arrest Mr Coltrane, and this time I fear the crown is not going to let you get away with a warning.’

‘Bastards!’ Coltrane spat as he was bundled from his chair. ‘How dare you profane this sacred space!’

‘Sacred!’ Ross snorted. ‘This is a grotesque display of deceit.’ He looked at the other guests and saw their utter confusion. ‘This man is a fraud.’

‘He can’t be.’ The middle aged man stammered. ‘The blood…’

‘Capsules, bitten down on and then directed through the nose. It’s easily done.’ He glared at the army man. ‘That isn’t even a proper captain’s uniform.’ 

‘The candles?’ This was from the young woman. 

‘String under the table.’ Ross replied. ‘See for yourself.’ He snorted at Coltrane. ‘Not even bloody original.’

He strode past them all, stopping to collect his things before walking outside where he took his cigarette case from his coat pocket and lit one, turning the engraved lighter over in his hand once before replacing it. He offered the case to Dwight as he came out. 

‘That was a good result.’ Dwight smiled, inhaling in a very satisfied manner. ‘We’ve been after him for months.’

‘Well, he’s not going to cheat anyone else out of their money anymore.’ Ross stated. He watched as the police officers brought the culprits out one by one. ‘What they do is despicable.’

‘You!’ This was from a frantically struggling Miss Henshaw. ‘Who the bloody hell are you?’

‘Ross Poldark, at your service.’ Ross couldn’t resist. He grinned at her obvious shock. ‘You should do your research a little more thoroughly.’

The policeman dragged her away and was followed by the middle aged couple. They threw Ross a look of pure anger and Ross sighed inwardly. Not everyone was willing to believe they had been defrauded. 

‘You.’ The woman had now stopped and was addressing him, accusation colouring her voice. ‘You’ve never lost someone you love, have you?’ She started to cry again, her emotions overwhelming her. ‘If you had, you would know how painful this is! You are cruel and unkind to take this from us!’

Her husband tugged her away and Ross watched them go. He kept his face calm, but Dwight knew him far too well. 

‘Pay her no mind.’ He spoke softly. ‘She’s not to know what she’s saying right now. She’s had an awful shock.’

Ross took a last drag of his cigarette and crushed it underfoot. 

‘I need to go.’ He shook Dwight’s hand. 

‘Thank you for your help.’ Dwight replied. ‘Until next week?’

‘Until next week.’ Ross confirmed and then walked down the street without a backwards glance. 

He took a cab home, entering the handsome block of flats he occupied in Chelsea and walking up to the third floor. His rooms overlooked the river and he let himself in and discarded his coat over the chair in the hall. 

He walked through to the sitting room, loosening his tie and pouring himself a whiskey from the decanter on the sideboard before he went to sit down, taking a sip as he took the lighter from his trouser pocket and running his thumb over it. The inscription was in Latin, but Ross knew what it meant and he sighed deeply as he thought back to the day he’d woken up in a hospital in France and been handed it back by the doctor. 

‘Whoever gave that to you must think an awful lot of you.’ His grey eyes twinkled. ‘I have never read such a touching inscription before. You’ll be pleased to get back to her.’

Ross stared at the lighter. He had no idea who had given it to him, but it had not been his fiancée. Large parts of his memories from before and during the war still eluded him, a result of the artillery strike that had wounded him and given him the scar that ran down the left side of his face. The shell shock had been so severe he’d been unconscious for two weeks. 

He hadn’t been the same since he’d come back from France. Thankfully he’d inherited enough money from his late father that he did not need to work and could instead devote himself to his writing and investigation of the supernatural and those people who falsified it. 

He put the lighter down and took another drink. This was his life now, mostly conducted in shady front rooms and helping Dwight arrest people. He had long since lost Elizabeth. She had married his cousin instead, preferring Francis’ placid nature to his own instability, and Ross really couldn’t blame her. Unlike his cousin, he’d chosen to go to the Front and make his way in the trenches instead of taking a cushy desk job far behind enemy lines. Along the way, he’d sacrificed a great many things including the man who’d given him this lighter. 

It hadn’t been difficult to work out. Ross had found letters amongst his things, letters written with such love and longing in them they had made him cry. He’d also found one in reply to one he’d obviously sent when he and Elizabeth had become engaged, begging him to reconsider terminating their relationship. It had ripped at his heart, the pain the writer had felt seeped into the ink it was written with and the words blurred where the he had cried over them.

Ross didn’t know who this unnamed man was. The letters were all unsigned, terminating with a little anchor drawn at the bottom of the page. The paper was Royal Navy stock and the post mark from the HMS Dragon, a destroyer that had been sunk off the Scandinavian coast by a U-boat with a loss of all 350 hands so Ross knew that whoever his lover had been, he’d lived long enough for Ross to break his heart and then he’d died in a blaze of fire and been buried in the frigid water of the North Sea. 

He ate a solitary dinner of cutlets and boiled potatoes and then wrote up his notes for Verity to type up the next day. She was married to a captain in the merchant navy who was away for long stretches and she enjoyed the diversion acting as his secretary gave her. 

He read until it was time for bed and then lay awake as was his habit, dreading the moment his eyes would close and the terrible nightmares he suffered would arrive to plague him. 

**********

Morning came with the sound of the front door closing. Ross struggled to wake, exhausted after another restless night. He listened to the sound of Verity moving about the flat and then roused himself enough to wash and dress before making his appearance. 

His cousin was at her desk in his study when he came through. She had a cup of tea at her elbow and the staccato notes of her typewriter set Ross’ teeth on edge. He walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek and she smiled at him in reply. 

‘This sounds awfully thrilling.’ she remarked, nodding at the notes. Ross shrugged. 

‘Another case for the book.’ He went to the coffee pot she had set out for him and poured himself a cup. ‘It keeps the wolf from the door, I suppose.’

‘A lot of people think it’s far more than that.’ Verity replied. ‘Have you got any appointments for today?’

‘Not until next week.’ Ross said, going to sit at his desk. Just as he was about to put his cup down, they heard the sound of someone knocking at the front door. 

Ross frowned and looked at Verity, who showed every sign of being so engrossed in her work that she hadn’t heard a thing.

Ross huffed. 

‘It’s probably a blasted reader come to harass me.’ he grumbled and went to go answer, not waiting for a reply. He went into the hall and opened the front door and blinked in surprise. The young man standing in front of him was well-dressed in the manner of a scholar, the black three piece suit he wore showing the typical shabbiness of a school master or university student, a thought only supported by the striped tie. He looked at Ross with clever blue-green eyes and held out a hand in greeting. 

‘Mr Poldark?’ he asked and Ross saw that he had a copy of his latest book in the other. It seemed he was correct in his assumptions.

‘You’ll have to come in.’ he said brusquely. ‘I don’t carry a pen around with me.’

‘Excuse me?’ the young man asked, but Ross ignored him and went back into the flat. He found a pen on the hall table and took the book from the man’s hands, opening the cover and looking at him expectantly. 

‘Who should I make it out to?’ he asked, wanting to hurry this along. 

‘My name is James Hawkins.’ The young man looked bemused. ‘But that’s not quite why…’

‘Well, here you are.’ Ross quickly inscribed the book and handed it back to him. ‘Thank you for your patronage, Mr Hawkins. I am delighted you enjoyed it.’

‘I didn’t.’ Hawkins said and that brought Ross up short.

‘I beg your pardon?’ he asked and Hawkins frowned, dark gold brows drawing down and making him look rather severe. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I didn’t enjoy it.’ Hawkins replied. ‘I found it far too certain for my tastes. One would almost say smug.’

‘Really?’ Ross snorted. ‘And are you in the habit of coming to an author’s door and insulting them just for your own amusement?’

‘Hardly.’ Now Hawkins sounded affronted. ‘I was sent here on business.’

‘And what possible business could you have with me?’ Ross demanded, now annoyed at what seemed was a waste of his time. 

‘You claim to be a ghost hunter, as well as an author.’ Hawkins stated and Ross huffed. 

‘Not exactly.’ He replied, folding his arms. ‘One cannot hunt what doesn’t exist.’

‘Well, that’s just the thing.’ Now Hawkins’ light eyes were piercing. ‘We think we have one that does.’

‘Does what?’ Ross frowned. ‘Do you mean a ghost?’

‘Most assuredly.’ Hawkins nodded. ‘A ghost.’

*********

He bought Hawkins a cup of tea after he declined coffee and then closed the sitting room door behind him. Ross knew Verity would probably be listening on the other side, but he didn’t want to have her hear the conversation.

‘Now what’s all this about?’ He crossed one leg over the other and reached for his cigarette case, offering it to Hawkins. Hawkins took one and Ross leaned over to light it for him. 

‘I am engaged as the English Master at a school in Cumbria.’ He inhaled and blew out the stream of smoke. ‘Turkish?’

‘Yes.’ Ross replied. Hawkins nodded. 

‘I once knew a man who smoked these.’ He smiled and there was a flicker of dimples in his cheeks. ‘The school I work for is called Trelawney Academy. It’s a private boarding school for boys. Three months previously one of our pupils, a William Manderley, died in unusual circumstances. Now the boys are all claiming that he is haunting the school. It’s causing a great deal of upset.’

‘And what does that have to do with me?’ Ross asked. 

‘My headmaster sent me down to engage you in investigating the veracity of these stories.’ Hawkins explained. ‘He is most concerned about the impact this could have on the reputation of the school. As you can imagine, the death of a pupil was severe enough. This on top of it could ruin the institution.’ 

Ross leaned back and studied him, congratulating himself on having pinned Mr Hawkins so successfully. 

‘I am afraid I am not the man you’re looking for.’ he relied. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts. In fact that’s my entire premise.’

‘Exactly.’ Hawkins placed the brown manila envelope he’d brought with him on the table. ‘Which is why you were chosen. You have a healthy scepticism for the subject and you would no doubt be able to work out if this is simply a prank or if it is something more than that.’

‘Have you any proof of what the boys have been saying?’ Ross asked and Hawkins nodded. He opened the envelope and removed a photograph. It was a standard school picture, taken in front of a grand building and sowing a cohort of boys all in uniform, flanked by teachers. Ross immediately spotted Hawkins standing to the right of the group. He placed it on the table between them and tapped the opposite side. 

‘Look there.’ he instructed. 

Ross set his cigarette in the ash tray and picked up the photograph. He studied it, examining the figure at the end of the row. It had the vague shape of a child.

‘This is easily done.’ he declared. ‘An overexposed photograph. This is the simplest bit of trickery to perpetuate.’

‘Except that everyone is accounted for in that photograph.’ Jim countered. ‘All of the staff are there as well as all of the boys.’

‘But I only have your word on that.’ Ross was stern. ‘This is hardly enough to get me to come all the way to Cumbria.’ 

‘Then believe me when I tell you that my boys are not just concerned.’ Now Hawkins leaned forwards, his eyes blazing with intensity. ‘They are terrified, Mr Poldark. They huddle in corners and refuse to go anywhere alone. In two days it shall be summer holidays and we will be lucky to get any of them back.’

‘The financial future of your school is none of my concern.’ Ross shook his head. ‘I cannot help you.’

Hawkins sighed and sat back, disappointment in his eyes. 

‘I am truly sorry to hear that.’ He crushed out the cigarette Ross had given him. ‘In that case, I shan’t take up any more of your time.’

‘That would probably be best.’ Ross said, getting up as he did. 

He saw Hawkins to the door, shaking his hand and closing the door firmly behind him. As he turned, Verity came out the study room. 

‘Who were you talking to?’ she asked and Ross gave her a brief outline of what Hawkins had told him.

‘You bloody idiot.’ she said fondly when he’d finished. ‘That could have made a terrific story. It sounds like it’s right up your alley.’

Ross laughed. 

‘Nobody would ever be taken in by that kind of story.’ He moved back past her and she followed him. 

‘I don’t know.’ She was smiling as they went back into the study. ‘Haunted school, loads of terrified kiddies. I think people would buy it in their droves.’

‘Christ.’ Ross slumped into his chair. ‘I suppose you think I should go have a look?’

‘I definitely think you should go have a look.’ Verity was adamant. ‘Take all the equipment and have a good old nose around. If nothing it will get you out of London and into the country air for a while. You spend far too much time cooped up in this bloody flat.’

Ross regarded her and then sighed. 

‘They probably won’t pay me very much.’ he muttered. 

‘You don’t need the money, Ross.’ Verity was grinning. ‘But you do need the adventure.’

‘Very well.’ Ross reached for another cigarette. ‘Get me the address.’ 

‘I will.’ Verity came over. ‘Can’t be too many schools by that name up in Cumbria.’

Ross considered. On second thought maybe this wasn’t as terrible an idea as he’d first thought. 

‘I don’t know where Hawkins is staying.’ He frowned. ‘He may well be on his way back already.’ 

‘In that case, might it not be a good idea to leave as soon as possible?’ Verity grinned at him. ‘Why don’t you go pack and I’ll make the enquiries.’

‘You are a wonder, old girl.’ Ross said and she waved him off and went back into the study.

**********

There was a train that very afternoon which would take him all the way to Keswick, arriving at nine in the evening. 

Ross packed a suitcase with a few changes of clothing and his wash kit. His equipment was all stowed in a large steamer trunk, ready to be taken with him. 

Verity had found the address of the school Hawkins had mentioned in a directory and she handed him a slip of paper with it written down. 

‘I haven’t been able to contact them.’ She told him. ‘They are a rural school and seem to have no telephone as yet. I have yet to actually find a way to even get in contact with the station at Keswick.’

‘No mind.’ Ross went to take down his coat from the hall stand. ‘If there is only one train then I’d wager that I shall find Mr Hawkins on it. He can take me with him.’

He took a taxi to King’s Cross and found a porter to bring his trunk while he went to buy a ticket. The first train was to Manchester and Ross scanned the platform, looking for the man who had visited him that morning while his luggage was loaded onto the train. Being a Friday afternoon, it was particularly busy and he couldn’t see Hawkins at all. The crowds of people sent him running for the relative quiet of the waiting room, where he sat and waited until the announcement came for his train and then boarded, walking down the line of carriages until he found an empty compartment, sliding back the door and going inside. 

He settled into a seat, lighting a cigarette and opening the window to blow the smoke out. He saw several people pass the compartment and each time they did he tensed up, hoping they wouldn’t come in. He detested being in a position where he had to share his space and heaven forbid he should have to talk to anyone. The train engine fired up, billows of steam coming past his window. Ross sighed, and soon enough he felt the first lurch of as the locomotive pulled them out of the station. He reached into his pocket and took out his notebook and pencil and started making a list of pertinent questions for him to ask when he got to the school. 

A tap on the door of the compartment made him look up and he was surprised to see Hawkins peering through the glass at him. He raised his eyebrows in question and Ross got up and went to open the door. 

‘Well well, Mr Poldark.’ Hawkins smiled and his dimples sprang to life. ‘Fancy seeing you on the train to Manchester.’ 

‘Indeed.’ Ross replied. ‘I was hoping to find you, as a matter of fact.’

‘Oh?’ Hawkins said. ‘You’ve changed your mind then?’

‘I have.’ Ross stepped aside. ‘I also have an empty compartment and a very long trip ahead of me. Would you like to join me, Mr Hawkins?’

‘Thank you, I would be delighted.’ Hawkins stepped in. ‘And please call me Jim.’

‘Jim.’ Ross repeated. ‘In that case, you must call me Ross.’

They sat back down and Ross looked across at him. Jim seemed rather younger than he was and he asked him about this. 

‘I am twenty-six.’ Jim replied. ‘But I look rather young, I realise.’ He gave Ross a speculative look. ‘You were at Ypres. The Lancers according to your book.’

‘That’s correct.’ Ross replied. ‘And yourself?’

‘Royal Navy.’ Jim replied. ‘I was on a destroyer in the North Sea. The Defiant.’

Ross felt a flutter of nerves in his stomach at the mention of the Service. Instinctively he stuck his hand in his pocket, grasping his lighter. 

‘It must have been difficult.’ Jim was speaking again. ‘I have heard tales of Ypres.’

‘It was.’ Ross replied. ‘I started in a forward cavalry position, but we soon changed to trenches. It was far too easy to be shot from a horse.’ He inhaled and exhaled deeply. ‘It was bloody awful. Nothing but mud and death.’

‘So I have heard.’ Jim looked out the window. ‘The thing I remember is the cold. The railings of the ship would freeze solid and burn your hands if you touched them.’ He looked back at Ross. ‘May I ask why you changed your mind?’

‘It sounds like a good story.’ Ross replied. ‘And my cousin suggested that I needed a change of direction from setting up charlatan mediums in back rooms in London.’

‘Not that it doesn’t sound like an amusing pastime.’ There was a lilt to Jim’s words and Ross realised he was being teased. It was such a foreign feeling, having someone poke fun at him, that it took a while for him to respond.

He felt himself smiling, his mouth twisting into the unfamiliar shape. 

‘It’s a living.’ He replied and watched Jim smile in reply. 

‘An interesting one.’ He looked back out the window. ‘You will probably think us a very dull lot when you arrive at Trelawney.’ 

‘Not if you keep me entertained with ghosts.’ Ross remarked and that got a soft laugh. 

‘Entertained is hardly the word for it.’ Jim replied, a disquieted look on his face. 

‘Have you seen anything?’ Ross was now curious. 

‘No.’ Jim admitted. ‘But I have heard things.’

‘Like what?’ Ross asked, opening his notebook again. 

‘A child laughing in the corridors.’ Jim frowned. ‘Long after lights out. I’ve also seen footprints on the stairs made the next morning.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘The whole place feels unsettled.’

‘Tell me about the student.’ Ross was now writing everything down. ‘The one who died.’

‘William Manderley.’ Jim told him. ‘He was a reserved little boy, very homesick his first few weeks. The other boys didn’t really take to him and so they were rather unfriendly towards him.’ There was something in the way he said it that caught Ross’ attention.

‘Do you think they were involved?’ he asked and Jim shook his head. 

‘No.’ He sighed. ‘Will was found outside the building, lying on the lawn in front of the school that leads down to the ornamental lake. He couldn’t have gotten out without someone unlocking the door for him.’

‘So perhaps a member of staff then?’ Ross ventured and watched as Jim’s face gave him away. ‘You suspect someone?’

‘I don’t like to speak ill of people without proof.’ Jim replied. ‘But there are few teachers who are not as kind as they could be. Even so, murdering a child takes a cold heart and I do not think it could be one of us.’

‘That will remain to be seen.’ Ross out his notebook down. ‘I shall need to do a thorough examination of the building when we arrive.’

‘That can be arranged.’ Jim said. ‘As I mentioned, the boys will soon be gone and the entire school will be empty apart from those of us who stay there during the holidays.’

‘And who will that be?’ Ross asked. 

‘Myself and the headmaster, Alastair Trelawney and out matron, Mary Read. There will also be Tom Carne and his daughter Demelza. Tom’s the grounds keeper and lives there year round in the gatehouse. Most of the teachers will be going home, but Charles Vane has drawn the short straw this year so he will be saying.’ There was a tone to his voice and Ross gave him a penetrating look.

‘Tell me about him.’ he instructed. ‘You clearly dislike the man.’

‘He’s unkind to the boys.’ Jim was now flat, his light eyes angry. ‘He’s unnecessarily strict with them and he is fond of his switch.’

‘And you don’t believe in corporal punishment?’ Ross raised an eyebrow at him. 

‘No.’ Jim stared right back at him, his eyes now challenging. ‘I suffered through many a schoolmaster that thought knowledge could be beaten into me. I find encouragement to be a far more productive approach.’

‘And what about discipline?’ Ross wanted to stir the pot a little. 

‘Discipline comes with respect.’ Jim replied. ‘Boys do not respect those who abuse them, they simply fear them. One day they will be grown and realise that and with any luck they will be kinder to those who come after.’

‘You sound like an idealist.’ Ross chuckled. ‘You believe in the innate goodness of people. That’s not going to get you very far in the ghost hunting business.’

Jim looked at him and Ross got the distinct feeling he was being measured and found a bit wanting. 

‘It must be very hard to be so cynical.’ he eventually said. 

‘Most of my cases have resulted in me discovering that these hauntings were being perpetuated by people with agendas that were far from altruistic.’ He explained. ‘A healthy dose of cynicism is what allows me to see through their fraud.’

‘So you don’t believe in ghosts.’ Jim nodded. ‘But surely you must have some hope of finally being vindicated and discovering one?’

‘I wouldn’t know what to do with it if I did.’ Ross laughed, but there was little humour in it. ‘And I am almost positive that your ghost will prove to be no more than a schoolboy’s prank, much like many others I have investigated.’

‘We shall see.’ Jim was smiling at him again and for the first time since they had met, Ross felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time, taking him completely by surprise. 

It had been an age since he’d found anyone attractive enough to warrant his interest. He had been more or less celibate since the war, his deep sense of loss for the man whose face he couldn’t recall driving him and Elizabeth apart and making him into the recluse that he’d become.

Now he looked at Jim Hawkins with his dimpled smile and earnest expression and felt like this was a man he’d like to get to know better, even if his optimism was completely unwarranted and quiet likely to irritate Ross to distraction. 

He looked out the window himself, hoping that Jim didn’t notice the way he was observing him in the glass. 

‘Yes, we shall.’ he replied.


	2. The House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross arrives at the school and all is not well.

The train ride required them to change at Manchester to a smaller line and that took them out to Keswick and beyond to the tiny village station that served the school. Jim had to call ahead to the school to tell them Ross was coming with him and Ross took the opportunity to have some lunch and a cup of tea while he waited for him. He had assumed Jim would join him but soon enough it as time for the next train and he wandered back onto the platform and waited for Jim to appear. 

He did a few minutes before they were due to depart and they got on the train together and found another empty compartment for them to spend the rest of the journey in undisturbed as they continued their conversation. 

‘You didn’t have lunch.’ Ross offered Jim a cigarette and watched as he lit it. 

‘I did while I was waiting for the school to reply.’ he replied. ‘Unfortunately we don’t have one at the school so I had to loiter while they sent word from the station. It’s only a fifteen minute ride by bicycle from Trelawney so the station master went to alert them. They’ll have the car waiting for us to help with your equipment.’

They watched the sky darken as they approached their stop and it was dark when the train slowed and halted long enough for them to alight and the porter to get Ross’ trunk for him. Ross looked around and noticed that the station office was closed up tight for the night. He checked his watch and saw that it was just after ten. 

‘It’s a long journey.’ Jim said, watching him. ‘And everyone will be at home by now. Tom will be here soon though so we can carry it through to the road to wait for him.’

‘Very well.’ Ross took one side and Jim the other and together they carried the trunk from the station to the lane behind the station. The night was perfectly clear, the moon coming through the trees that hung over the road. He saw a light in the distance and soon enough a car pulled up. The man that got out was tall and bearded. He walked over and Ross saw the rough but serviceable clothing, a mark of his trade.

‘Jim.’ He stopped and looked at Ross. ‘This our ghost hunter?’ His accent was pure working class and Ross had to strain to understand him. 

‘Tom, this is Ross.’ Jim said and Ross blinked in surprise. He wasn’t used to informality with the help and this sat ill with him. Still, Tom seemed affable enough. Jim helped him get the trunk into the car and then got into the back with Ross. Tom climbed in the front and the car headed off into the dark. 

‘How was the train?’ Tom asked from the front. 

‘Not too bad.’ Jim replied. ‘London was awful, of course.’

‘You don’t like the city?’ Ross looked at him and saw how he was painted in shadows. 

‘I hate it.’ Jim looked back at him, his light eyes drained of their colour. ‘I grew up by the sea. Cities don’t sit well with me.’

Ross watched him go back to looking out the window and did the same. The trees on either side were thick, but he could just glimpse fields behind them. The car rattled along and then turned and Ross saw a massive pair of gates standing open. Tom turned the car into the drive and they made their way up a broad avenue lined with gnarled trees that Ross took to be oaks. He read the name of the school and then the Latin inscription underneath. 

‘It makes the school sound more…respectable.’ Jim said, looking at him with a hint of a smile. ‘Makes the parents happy because they can believe it’s a school for young gentlemen.’

‘It also means they can add another pound to the fees.’ Ross replied and Jim snorted with laughter.

‘You’re awfully cynical.’ He glanced at Ross again. ‘One wonders what happened to make you so.’

‘I never went to a school like this.’ Ross turned away from him. ‘My father didn’t believe in traditional education.’

‘And yet you read Latin.’ Jim was smiling. 

‘How do you know?’ Ross asked and he nodded at Ross’ hand. Ross glanced down and realised that he had his lighter in his hand. It was disconcerting. He hadn’t even realised he’d taken it out of his pocket.

‘There it is.’ Tom announced and Ross leaned forward to look through the windscreen, seeing a magnificent stone house in front of them. It was vast, the main façade flanked by two wings and facing onto a gravelled area with a fountain set in the centre. 

‘It used to be a grand house once upon a time.’ Jim told him and Ross gave him a quick glance over his shoulder. ‘Now it’s only the two bottom floors that are used by the school. There’s another complete floor above us which isn’t even touched.’

‘Aye.’ Tom drove right past the front entrance and turned into a courtyard to the left of the main wing. He stopped the car and Jim opened the door. 

‘Here we are.’ He got out and Ross followed, looking at the door that stood open at the side. A woman stood silhouetted in the light that spilled out. She was dressed in a matron’s uniform and smiled as he walked forward. 

‘Mr Poldark.’ Her green eyes caught the light like emeralds. ‘I am Mary Read.’

Ross inclined his head to her, noting that she didn’t shake hands. She looked older, maybe in her forties, and he felt immediately at ease with her. It was an odd feeling, one he didn’t have around many people.

‘Ross.’ he told her. ‘Mr Poldark is long dead and buried, I fear.’

Mary gave him a friendly smile and stepped aside so that Tom and Jim could haul the trunk in through the open door. 

‘How was your trip up?’ she asked and gestured for him to go inside. Ross stepped past her into a small hallway and the turned to answer. 

‘Long.’ he replied. 

‘I expect you are hungry.’ Mary was now walking to a doorway just off the hall. ‘I took the liberty of keeping some food warm for your arrival. All the other staff have eaten and gone to bed, and the boys have been asleep since eight o’clock.’

Ross followed her into the kitchen. It was a long room, the range at the end an old fashioned wood fired one. There was a pot on the stove and he could smell something that tickled at the back of his mind. It was a smell he knew, and yet one he couldn’t quite place. 

‘Please sit down.’ Mary directed and he saw that the table was set for two, obviously in anticipation of his arrival with Jim. ‘Tom will take you things up.’

Ross took off his coat and she took it from him and hung it up on a hook on the wall. He sat down, gently dragging his fingertips over the scrubbed pine surface. He remembered a table like this in his cousin’s home in Cornwall, a place he’d frequently spent time when he and his father had returned to England to visit. 

Mary busied herself at the range and returned with a bowl, steam rising from it. She placed it on front of him and Ross saw it was split pea and ham hock, something he hadn’t had since he’d returned from the war. Mary noticed the way he was staring at the bowl and smiled. 

‘You like it?’ she asked and Ross nodded. 

‘Yes, thank you.’ He looked up to see her placing a basket of sliced white country bread in front of him. ‘It’s actually one of my favourites. I used to have it when I was a child.’

‘Oh?’ Mary sat down opposite him and gently pushed the butter crock in his direction. ‘When I was in service I looked after a little boy who also loved it. His whole face would light up when I made it for him.’

‘You were a nanny?’ Ross asked and she nodded. 

‘It’s one of the reasons I took this post.’ she replied. ‘Only here I have quite a few more charges.’

Ross picked up his spoon and tasted the soup, unable to stop himself sighing happily at the richness on his tongue. He was a poor cook and his diet was limited to what he didn’t manage to burn and what Verity would serve him when she took pity on him and invited him to have dinner with her. 

‘I am sorry we have nothing finer to offer you but at least the peas are from our own garden and thankfully ham hocks are still reasonable enough.’ Mary said. ‘Our fare has been less than grand of late. I’m sure Jim has enlightened you as to our rather precarious situation here at Trelawney.’

‘He did.’ Ross now took the opportunity to give her a closer look. He noticed that Mary’s uniform, while perfectly clean and immaculately tidy, was worn and had the same shabby quality as Jim’s clothing. Clearly, things at Trelawney were much more dire than either of them were actually letting on. It seemed like madness that anyone employed there would try to jeopardise their position.

He turned at the sound of Jim coming back into the kitchen. He had shed his own jacket and tie and rolled his sleeves up to the elbow. Mary got up and he took his place at the table, thanking her when she brought him his own bowl. 

‘Your trunk and suitcase are upstairs.’ He informed Ross. ‘I’ve also told Alastair you’ve arrived and he has asked me to pass on his thanks and tell you that he will be meeting with you in the morning. He’s not been sleeping well and so he’s gone to bed. I think you coming back with me has set his mind at ease a little.’

‘I don’t know how much help I’ll be.’ Ross countered. 

‘Well whatever help you give is entirely welcome.’ Mary replied and then looked at Jim. ‘The Ramseys came today to take their boys out and tell him that they shan’t be coming back next term.’  
Jim heaved a sigh and Ross saw the strain on his face.

‘At this rate we’ll be lucky to have twenty returners.’ He reached for another piece of bread. ‘I suppose we can’t really blame them.’

‘No.’ Mary was now watching Ross intently. ‘But now that Mr Poldark is here, he can get started on clearing up this nonsense as soon as possible.’

‘Ross, please.’ Ross corrected her. ‘I take it from that comment that you don’t think this is a supernatural event.’

‘I do not.’ Mary confirmed. ‘I do not hold with any of these so-called ghostly shenanigans.’

‘Mary thinks it’s a case of human intervention rather than divine.’ Jim had a slight smirk on his face. It made one dimple flicker and Ross fixed on it for a few seconds and then realised they were waiting for him to say something. 

‘Do you suspect anyone?’ he asked and watched the look that passed between Mary and Jim. 

‘I have my thoughts on that.’ she replied. ‘But I shall hold my tongue until you have done your preliminary investigations. I will say that whoever it is, they are very clever. We have not been able to catch anyone on the act.’

‘Have you tried?’ Ross was now interested. 

‘I have.’ Mary declared. ‘So has Jim.’

‘Well, from tomorrow our list of suspects narrows considerably.’ Jim said. ‘So that should make things easier.’ He didn’t sound convinced. 

‘Yes.’ Ross nodded thoughtfully. ‘You said all the parents will be coming to collect the boys tomorrow.’

‘For six weeks.’ Mary replied. ‘It shall be us, Mr Vane, Thomas, Demelza and Alastair.’

‘Who is Demelza?’ Ross asked Jim. ‘You didn’t mention her earlier.’

‘Tom’s daughter.’ Jim explained. ‘That’s why Mary stays. She looks after her during the day.’

‘She’s only eight.’ Mary added. ‘But she’s a bright little thing.’ She chuckled. ‘You’ll no doubt be completely pestered once she sees what you are up to.’

‘She lives here with all the boys?’ Ross was surprised. 

‘She sometimes attends my classes.’ Jim said. ‘I have the youngest boys and she gets along well with them.’

‘It might be her then.’ Ross ventured. ‘If she’s so bright.’

‘This is not the work of a child.’ Mary was suddenly stern. ‘The things we have heard and seen are horrible. I cannot conceive of a child’s mind dreaming them up.’

‘Like what?’ Ross’ curiosity was back, rearing its head at the mention of further evidence. 

Mary looked at Jim and Jim nodded. 

‘Tell him, Mary.’ he said. Mary huffed and looked unsettled. 

‘Screams.’ She frowned. ‘The sound of a woman sobbing as if her heart would break. And once there was a something like a shotgun being fired.’

‘She’s also seen the footprints.’ Jim added. 

‘Yes.’ Mary nodded. ‘Wet footprints up the stairs to the second floor. A child’s footprints.’

‘This is all very interesting.’ Ross was now keen to know more. ‘And the children believe it’s the ghost of the dead boy?’

‘They do.’ Mary shifted in her chair. ‘The poor little things are frightened to death. These are good boys, Mr Poldark. They can be prone to mischief, what boy isn’t, but there is no malice in them. I cannot envisage a single one of them doing anything like this and being able to conceal it so well. No, I feat that when you get to the bottom of things, you shall find an adult at work.’

‘And that means one of the staff.’ Ross looked at Jim and raised an eyebrow. 

‘That is certainly my impression.’ Mary pursed her lips in disapproval. She got up to clear their now empty dishes and then offered Ross tea. He declined, now feeling a lot more worn out than he had earlier. 

‘I think I would like to go to bed and then have an early start in the morning.’ he said, getting up. ‘But thank you for supper.’

‘You are most welcome.’ Mary replied. ‘Jim, won’t you take Mr Poldark up and get him settled?’

‘Of course.’ Jim smiled and stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘I’ll bring him down in the morning for breakfast.’ 

‘Good.’ Mary turned to Ross. ‘I shall wish you a pleasant night’s sleep.

‘Good night, Mary.’ Ross said and started off after Jim. 

He led Ross down the corridor and out into another far more grandiose hall which seemed to be at the front of the house. A sweeping staircase rose up and curved back on itself and they ascended. 

‘Mary’s put you in the room next to mine.’ Jim explained. ‘We have an adjoining bathroom.’ 

‘The house was in private hands before, I assume.’ Ross looked around him.

‘It was.’ Jim confirmed. ‘Alastair bought it at quite a good price and we hoped to renovate it bit by bit as we went along.’ They turned off the stairs into another corridor that appeared to run the length of the house. ‘The staff all sleep down here, except for Mary. These were the family rooms at one time, I believe.’

‘And what is on the second floor?’ Ross asked. 

‘The old servant’s quarters.’ Jim was leading him the far end of the passage. ‘We don’t use any of the rooms up there at all. In fact, the boys are forbidden from going up there at all. Now that we are down to only thirty, Alastair had them moved into one of the empty rooms on the ground to prevent them straying far at night.’ He stopped outside a door. ‘Here you are. This one is yours while you are with us.’

‘Can I ask why you are staying?’ Ross turned to him. ‘All the other masters are leaving.’

‘I am an orphan.’ Jim replied. ‘I have no family to speak of apart from what I have here and so I have nowhere else to go.’ His mouth twisted. ‘It’s not much of a home, but it is mine for the time being.’ He opened the door. ‘I’ll let you get settled in. We rise at five tomorrow morning.’

‘I’ll be ready.’ Ross stepped over the threshold of the room. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Sleep well.’ Jim replied and closed the door behind him. Ross waited until his footsteps had faded away before he turned and looked around him. 

The room was simply furnished with a bed, a desk and chair and a chest of drawers. His trunk and suitcase had been neatly lined up under the window. There was a door on the right of the room that he assumed led into the shared bathroom Jim had mentioned. 

He took off his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair, then went to the door. The bathroom was a simple affair with a tiled shower and washbasin. Ross washed up and went back into the bedroom, undressing and putting on the loose cotton trousers he wore to sleep in. 

The bed was a little lumpy, but after the trenches anything soft felt luxurious and the pillows were very comfortable. He sat up in bed, the small bedside lamp now on, and wrote in his notebook while he had a final cigarette. With that done, Ross stubbed it out and then picked up his lighter. It was a habit he always had, tracing over the inscription with his thumb and hoping against hope that he might see the face of the man he’d loved in his dreams. 

He laid it back down and turned off the light, expecting to lie awake for hours as he usually did. His last thought was astonishment that he felt sleepy and before he knew it, his eyes closed of their own accord and he drifted off into sleep.

*********

He was woken from a sound sleep by the terrified shrieks of a child. 

Ross jolted awake and was up before he had even fully woken. He stumbled from his bedroom into the corridor to find that every other occupant of the rooms that lined it had done the same. Ross now found himself the focus of a series of amazed looks and he was at a loss as to how to proceed. 

‘Christ.’ Jim’s voice startled him and Ross wheeled around to see him standing behind him, his bedroom door standing open. He had also clearly been roused from sleep, his mussed hair and sleepy blinks evidence of this particular fact. Ross saw that he was dressed in the same manner, and that he was solidly built under the unassuming teacher exterior. He wondered briefly if Jim sailed, accounting for the defined muscles in his arms and shoulders. It would make sense if he had been in the Navy. 

‘Dear God.’ And older man with thick grey hair was coming down towards them. He was wearing navy cotton pyjamas and a paisley silk dressing gown, his feet encased in embroidered slippers. ‘Jim?’

‘I heard it.’ Jim’s face was set. ‘I’ll go down and check on the boys.’ He ducked back into his room and came back with his own dressing gown, a utilitarian affair in dark blue, throwing it on as he moved off towards the staircase. 

‘Mr Poldark, I presume.’ The older man held out a hand. ‘I am Alastair Trelawney.’

Ross shook his hand, noting the strength in his grip. 

‘Ross.’ He looked past him down the corridor. ‘Is this a regular occurrence?’ 

‘It has been.’ Alastair looked troubled. ‘It sounded like one of the boys.’

‘Maybe I can help?’ Ross asked and the headmaster’s face immediately changed, gratitude in his eyes as he nodded. 

‘I would appreciate it.’ He took Ross by the arm and steered him down the corridor with him. 

Downstairs was pandemonium. The boys who had been woken by the screams of their dormitory mate were now all upset, lips wobbling and sniffles filling the room. Jim was on one knee, talking softly to a boy who was presumably the one who’d been screaming in fear. He was still crying, his little face scrunched up and tears still streaming down his cheeks but he was no longer wailing. 

Mary was trying her best to quieten them all down and when she saw Alastair and Ross, she gave them a pleading look. 

‘Jim.’ Alastair went over to him. ‘Why don’t you take Israel into the kitchen? Ross can talk to him there and I’ll help Mary get this lot back to bed.’ 

‘All right.’ Jim got up and picked up the boy in his arms, shifting him to one hip easily and carrying him out the door at the back of the room that was being used as makeshift sleeping quarters for the boys. Ross followed him, noting how gentle Jim was with his young charge. They got to the kitchen and Jim set Israel down on the table. He fetched a cloth to dry the boy’s face and gave him a reassuring smile.

‘See?’ He nodded at Ross to come forward. ‘It was just a nightmare.’

‘No.’ Israel protested, extremely vehement for such a young boy. ‘It was him! It was Will!’ 

‘It can’t have been.’ Jim was now moving to a series of jars on the dresser, opening one and extracting what looked like a biscuit. He then disappeared into the pantry and came back out with a glass of milk. He placed it on the table and held out the biscuit to Israel, who took it with shaking hands, his little face full of trepidation. Jim smiled at him and nodded at the biscuit. 

‘What Mary doesn’t know won’t hurt her.’ He gave Israel a wink. ‘Our secret.’

Israel seemed to calm as he bit into the biscuit, crumbs littering the front of his pyjamas. Jim waited until he had finished the biscuit and drunk down half the milk, then gestured at Ross. 

‘This is Mr Poldark.’ he said. ‘He’s come to help us catch the ghost.’

‘Really?’ Israel’s dark eyes were huge. He wiped at his eyes again and Ross could see that all the excitement was clearly catching up with him. 

‘Yes.’ Jim reached over and brushed the crumbs away. ‘Now can you tell him what you saw?’

Israel started to tremble again but he looked at Ross. Ross tried to make himself look approachable, but even so Israel flinched when he came closer. 

‘It’s all right, Iz.’ Jim sighed and put his arms around him, cuddling the boy. Israel put his own arms around Jim’s neck, giving Ross a frightened look over his shoulder. 

‘It was Will.’ The whisper was barely audible. ‘He was in the hallway and he was all wet.’ 

Jim stepped back, hands on Israel’s shoulders. 

‘What were you doing in the hall?’ he asked and Israel looked guilty. 

‘I was looking for Ratty.’ His face started to crumple again and Jim sighed. 

‘Not an actual rat?’ Ross felt a flicker of alarm. He hated rats, had done so since the trenches.

‘No.’ Jim replied. ‘He’s the school cat, actually, but he’s been missing for a while. When the disturbances started, he disappeared and we haven’t been able to find him.’ He gave Ross a look. ‘As you can imagine, that hasn’t helped matters.’

‘He was here tonight.’ Israel was insistent. ‘I heard him meowing so I went into the hall to find him but he wasn’t there. Then I heard Will whispering to me but when I saw him, his face was all wrong.’ Now he looked distressed and Jim pacified him, making soothing noises and hugging him again. 

‘What do you mean his face was all wrong?’ Ross asked and Israel sniffled. 

‘It looked like when it’s raining and you can’t see properly though the window.’ He looked to Jim for support and Jim nodded. 

‘You can tell Ross.’ He smiled at the boy. ‘He’s going to help us.’

‘I could hear him breathing.’ Israel’s voice dropped. ‘Like he did when he got sick. It was all wheezy.’

‘He was an asthmatic.’ Jim explained when Ross looked at him questioningly. ‘We think it’s what might have killed him, but obviously we had no proof.’

‘Why would he have had an attack?’ Ross asked and Jim shrugged. 

‘How did he get outside?’ he asked in reply. ‘Those are the questions we have been trying to answer.’

Ross turned to Israel, his mind working. 

‘What are the rules about being out of bed after bed time?’ h asked and now Jim looked surprised but said nothing. 

‘We aren’t allowed, sir.’ Israel’s lips was trembling again. ‘We get into awful trouble if Mr Vane catches us out.’ 

‘Charles is an insomniac.’ Jim explained. ‘He’s often up and patrolling the halls.’ 

Ross sighed as an idea started to form in his mind. 

‘He didn’t see him that night?’ he looked at Jim, who shook his head. 

‘No.’ He regarded Israel. ‘I think that’s enough excitement for one night. Time to go back to bed.’ He moved forward and picked Israel up off the table. Even as he did, there were footsteps and a tall spare man with thinning brown hair came into the kitchen. He gave Jim a twisted smirk, his lip curling in distaste. 

‘You molly coddle the boy.’ His voice was harsh and Ross detected something in it that he filed away for later use. ‘All of them.’

‘No, Charles. I just so happen to think that terrorising children is not a particularly effective means of managing them.’ Jim replied, his own words clipped and verging on anger. He walked off, carrying Israel back to bed and the man he’d addressed turned to look at Ross. His pale blue eyes were full of hostility. 

‘You’re the ghost hunter.’ He sneered and Ross felt his instincts flinch from the man. 

‘That’s right.’ He held his ground. ‘You must be Mr. Vane.’ 

Vane gave him a look bordering on furious and stormed off, leaving Ross wondering. He left the kitchen and found Jim coming back out of the dormitory. 

‘Mary’s putting him to sleep.’ He sighed and ran one hand through his hair. 

‘I’d like a word.’ Ross said and Jim frowned. 

‘Now?’ he asked and Ross nodded. Jim gave him a searching look and led him through the hall and into another empty room. There were several chairs scattered in front of the fireplace and Ross saw that the remains of a fire were still glowing in the hearth. 

They sat down and Jim looked at him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

‘I know it’ sounds incredible…’ he started, but Ross cut him off. 

‘Tell me about Vane.’ he instructed and Jim sat back. 

‘He’s been here longer than I have.’ He stared at the embers, the light making his face a contrast of shadows. ‘He teaches mathematics.’

‘That’s not what I am asking about.’ Ross replied. He watched as Jim shifted and then sighed. 

‘He’s like Will was.’ He looked at Ross. ‘An asthmatic. You’d think that would make him sympathetic to the boy, but he seemed to delight in torturing him. It wasn’t enough that the other boys picked on Will because he was poorly, Vane was just as bad.’

‘What did he do?’ Ross was now curious. 

‘He was overly harsh with him in class. He’d make fun of him if he was overseeing a sporting activity, things like that.’ Jim replied. ‘You know he couldn’t serve. They wouldn’t take him because of his physical condition. I think he channelled a lot of the anger he had about that into his treatment of Will.’ 

‘Do you think he had anything to do with what happened?’ Ross asked and now Jim looked stricken. 

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Even Charles would never be so wilfully cruel as to lock a terrified child out in the cold and dark like that, especially knowing what it would do to Will.’ 

‘Perhaps it was an accident.’ Ross mused. He blew out a deep breath. ‘I think we should probably go to bed. I’ll start my investigations tomorrow.’ He gave Jim a quick glance. ‘I’ll probably need an assistant.’ 

‘You'll have to make do with yourself tomorrow but once the boys are dispatched the day after, I am at your disposal.’ Jim replied. 

They got up and made their way back upstairs. At the door to his room, Ross turned. 

‘I’ll see you in the morning.’ He said and Jim gave him a half smile. 

‘Sleep well.’ He opened his door and went inside. Ross waited until it was closed and did the same. 

He got back into bed, but this time it took a lot longer to fall asleep.


	3. To Catch a Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to try and catch the culprit.

Ross woke long before the bell that was due to ring at six to waken the boys. He stayed still and stared at the ceiling, barely visible in the dim light, and listened to the house.

It was eerily quiet, creaking every now and then in the way that only really old houses did. He remembered how his uncle’s house had done the same, tried to recall his own childhood home but not really being able to. He surmised long ago that he’d blocked most of it out after the deaths of his mother and younger brother, not wanting to recall anything that had bought him such pain.

There was the sound of someone moving about and Ross turned his head to the wall, realising that it must be Jim. The sound of the door on his side of the interconnecting bathroom came next, then water falling as Jim obviously started the shower. Ross wondered whether he had also been unable to sleep and reached up, trailing his fingers along the wall.

The texture of the plaster under his fingers was irregular and he absently scratched at it, startled when a clump of it disintegrated under his fingernails and fell on the bed. He quickly sat up, brushing it away, but then realised that there was now a hole in the wall exposed by the miniature collapse. Not only that, but there was light coming through as well as the sound of water.

Intrigued, Ross moved so he could peer into the hole and was shocked to find that it was right through the wall. He frowned and then put his eye to the gap, seeing white tiles and the flutter of a shower curtain before something passed in front of it and he jerked back as if burned.

The sound changed, now that of water hitting flesh and he froze, battling internally between his desire to look again and his realisation that it would be inappropriate to do so. Eventually curiosity won out and he moved, slower this time, to look. What he saw made him gasp, hastily putting a hand over his mouth to still the noise.

The line of Jim’s back was clearly visible, pale skin gleaming with water and the slick sheen of soap. Ross watched as he turned so his lean belly was visible, the line of hair leading from his navel down darkened by the spray. His breath caught in his throat, heat flaring in his chest and his mouth going dry. It was the same accursed reaction he remembered in dreams sometimes when his nights were filled with the feel of hands on his skin and the sensation of a hot wet mouth against his shoulder.

He pulled back from the wall, lying back down and squeezing his eyes shut as he willed himself not to feel what he was feeling, not to give into the desire to get up and go in to the men next door and shove him against the white tiles and kiss him until they both lost what little compunction they might have.

That though was enough to have him falling from the bed, stumbling over the cold floorboards to the washstand where he filled the basin and splashed his face in a frantic effort to clear his head. By the time he was calm enough to stop, he could no longer hear the shower and felt it safe to return to consider what he should do next.

Ross eventually settled on getting ready for the day in turn. He gathered his wash kit and clothing and ventured to the door, resting one hand on it before he tried the handle and opened it. The room was still steamy, residual warmth making it more comfortable than the bedroom, and he went in. He showered quickly, not wishing to linger in the space where Jim had just been standing while he had played voyeur. He shaved and brushed his teeth, dressing with efficiency born of habit and the military before going back into his room, an idea for how the day might play out formulating in his mind.

He pocketed his cigarette case and lighter and decided that seeing as Jim was awake, he might as well use his knowledge of the building to his advantage. He stopped outside his door and it opened just as he was lifting a hand to knock. Jim was immaculately turned out as he had been the day before, dark suit and tie and with not a golden hair out of place.

‘Ross.’ He looked surprised. ‘I didn’t know you were up.’

‘I wondered if we might have a look at where the boy was found.’ he said by way of greeting. ‘It would help if we could also enlist the assistance of Miss Read.’

‘Of course.’ Jim closed his door behind him. ‘She’ll be awake and no doubt making breakfast. A couple of the local girls come in to help during the day so she’ll be able to spare a few minutes.’ He walked past and Ross caught a wave of his cologne, feeling an odd sense of recognition as he did so. He followed Jim downstairs and to the rear of the house. Mary was in the kitchen, busy as Jim had said she would be, but she gave them a smile when they entered and readily agreed to help.

She led them out through the rooms now alive with the sound of boys getting up even as the bell rang, through to one of the empty rooms that had doors leading to the terrace that ran along the side of the house. She unlocked the doors with a key on the bunch she had, and Ross stepped out into the grey morning light, noting how the trees at the edge of the lawn faded into the mist that hovered.

‘There.’ She nodded at the left set of steps. ‘He was lying at the bottom of them, all curled up.’ Her face grew pinched. ‘Poor little mite. He was cold and stiff as a board when they found him.’

‘He’d been dead some time then?’ Ross looked at Jim’s grim expression and got a nod. ‘So he must have died in the early hours of the morning.’ He started down the steps and got to the ground, his trouser hems wetted by the grass that looked a little too long. Jim followed him but Mary remained where she was, turned away with a hand to her mouth.

Ross glanced up at her and got that odd sense of déjà vu again, then knelt and examined the ground. There was nothing of note until he started to straighten up and caught sight of something glinting even in the anaemic light. He reached for it and frowned when he saw it was a glass eye, the post broken off behind it.

‘What is it?’ Jim asked but Ross didn’t reply. Instead he addressed Mary.

‘Did Manderley have a toy? A bear or something similar?’ he asked and she nodded.

‘It’s in my office.’ she replied. ‘His mother couldn’t bring herself to take it with her. I’ll show you.’

‘You’ve found something then?’ Jim was now looking at the eye Ross was turning over in his fingers.

‘I think I might have.’ Ross said. ‘Let’s see if I am right.’

Mary’s office was in the corridor between the kitchen and the laundry. She had the bear in the bottom drawer of her desk and she took it out and handed it to Ross, who pressed the eye into the caramel coloured fur where its mate still sat. He examined the toy, seeing how the fur was worn in places from obvious love and attention and felt sad for the little boy that he no longer had his favourite toy. As he did he noticed something and lifted the bear to his nose, sniffing delicately. When he lowered it he noticed Jim and Mary watching him in obvious confusion.

Ross didn’t enlighten them, just smiled. He now had a very good idea of what he was dealing with but said no more as he followed Jim back in to have breakfast.

It was taken on what must have been the old dining room, long tables for the boys and one at the head for the staff. Each table had a teacher as well, and he noted that Jim went to sit with his group of youngsters.

Alastair beckoned him over and Ross went to join him, noticing that the other teachers were giving him curious looks. Alastair took the time to introduce him to the other four men, all teacher’s due to leave the next day when the school closed.

‘How goes the investigation?’ he asked as they all sat down. ‘You were out early with Jim this morning.’

‘As well as can be expected.’ Ross replied. ‘But I should have some answers for you soon. I was wondering if I could borrow someone to assist me today.’

‘I should think Tom would be your man.’ Alastair replied. ‘I’m afraid the teachers will be busy and I myself am probably note as fit as you would like.’ His grey eyes were piercing. ‘You have a plan?’

‘I certainly do.’ Ross said. ‘I shall be setting up my equipment and I would appreciate it if the boys could be told to not touch anything.’

‘Of course.’ Alastair reassured him.

After breakfast he went back to the kitchen to seek Mary out once more. To his surprise, he found her sitting at the table with a young girl with a mass of fiery copper curls tied back from her face with a white ribbon. She had on a plain blue dress and dark stockings and boots, which were currently kicking against her chair as she ate her oatmeal.

‘Mr Poldark.’ Mary smiled at him, apparently recovered from their little adventure earlier. ‘I do not believe you have met my favourite charge.’ She smiled at the girl, who had her back to Ross. ‘Say hello, Demelza.’

The girl turned and Ross felt his stomach lurch at the sight of her face. It was heart shaped and freckled and for a second he could have sworn that he had known someone who looked almost identical, but the memory was fuzzy. Demelza smiled at him and it was heartbreakingly lovely.

‘Good morning, Mr Poldark.’ She said, her child’s voice high pitched and just this side of reedy.

‘Miss Carne.’ He greeted in reply and that got a giggle. ‘You are Tom’s daughter, are you not?’

‘Yes.’ Demelza dug her spoon into the oatmeal. ‘My daddy’s the groundskeeper.’

‘He is indeed.’ Tom stepped through from the corridor and lifted a hand to his forelock. ‘Mr Poldark.’

‘Just the man I was looking for.’ Ross said. ‘I have need of your assistance, if you wouldn’t mind.’

‘Of course, sir.’ Tom came past, stopping to drop a kiss on his daughter’s head. ‘You be a good lass, Dem.’

‘Yes, Papa.’ She gave him a happy smile. ‘Miss Mary said we can bake today.’

‘Good girl.’ Tom looked at Ross. ‘Shall we get started, Mr Poldark.’

*********

They hauled the trunk to the boy’s dormitory, Mary in tow.

‘Would it be possible to get them to sleep somewhere else tonight?’ Ross asked her and she nodded.

‘They can lay their mattresses in the front room.’ she said, a half smile on her face. ‘It will be an adventure for them. I’ll make sure to light the fire.’

‘Good.’ Ross surveyed the room, making a note of the best places to set things up.

At first break, they had moved the beds to against the wall and Ross had started to unpack the trunk and set up his equipment. Tom had left to go back to his work, and Mary was watching in fascination.

‘There’s so many things.’ she murmured and Ross smiled at her.

‘Ghost hunting is rather a scientific endeavour.’ he replied. ‘It also happens to be costly, but thankfully I am able to afford it.’

‘So I see.’ she said, half turning at the sounds of children rushing out to play at their break. Not a moment later, Jim appeared. He stood and grinned as he looked things over, hands in his pockets.

‘Very impressive.’ he said. ‘What is all of this?’

‘This is a Pocket Premo.’ Ross opened the camera to show him. ‘It has a meniscus lens and a 12 exposure. I use a combination of potassium chlorate and magnesium, spark the whole thing with an electric charge set to go off when that is tripped and igniting the powder.’ He waved at a wire that had been strung along. ‘This also opens the aperture for a thirtieth of a second and thus ensures that we capture whatever was there to begin with.’ He placed it aside and then turned to something that looked like a gramophone only much smaller. This is a bell recorder should our ghost decide to leave us with any sounds and that is a Fumigator.’ This last looked more like a bell jar than actual scientific equipment and Ross saw Jim’s one eyebrow lift. ‘I use it to measure trace contacts. Very useful.’

‘What about that?’ Mary indicated something that looked like a small brass weather vane atop a stand that Ross had set up just before.

‘It’s a Marconi magnetic field detector.’ Ross replied. He noticed Jim looking at a pile of old newspapers.

‘What are these?’ he asked and Ross grinned.

‘Those are footprint catchers.’ He replied and now both eyebrows were up.

‘I didn’t realise that ghosts have footprints.’ Jim’s grin matched his own, dimples flickering.

‘They don’t.’ Ross was brisk, coming over to take the papers from Jim’s hands. He ignored the brief touch of their hands and carried on. ‘But the people pretending to be ghosts most certainly do.’

‘They must hate you.’ Jim gave him a considering look, putting down the papers and making for the door.

‘Who?’ Ross asked over his shoulder. ‘The people pretending to be ghosts? The spritualists.’ He said the last with a derisive snort.

‘No the ghosts, Ross.’ Jim called back just before he disappeared around the corner and that caught Ross off balance.

‘I best be getting back too.’ Mary said. ‘Will you be all right here by yourself?’

‘I’m a grown man, Mary.’ Ross couldn’t help a smile. ‘I promise nothing is going to scare me into running screaming down the passageway.’

Mary tutted at him and left and he was alone in the room. He busied himself with setting up some more lines, stringing one at foot level across the doorway, attaching a small bell. He was dimly aware of the sounds of boys filing back in and then silence.

That was when he heard it. It was a man’s voice, harsh and angry.

‘Be quiet! You’ll be quiet or so help me!’

Ross lifted his head, but the man didn’t speak again. Now he could hear the murmurs of voices, teachers explaining things in the classrooms not too far away. The voice no doubt belonged to one of them, annoyed at their pupils’ unruly behaviour. He imagined that it was probably Vane. He hadn’t liked the look of cruelty about the man, saw too much of his own father in him.

That made him think of his family and Verity and Ross surmised he should get to a telephone at some point to let her know how things were progressing but he was soon caught up in what he was doing and forgot.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and before Ross knew it, he was looking through the windows at a darkening sky and hearing the bell for scrubs. He left the room and made his way along the corridor, stopping when he came to the room being used as the substitute dormitory and found Mary and Demelza there. They were making up the last of the mattresses and Ross went in to them. Demelza smiled and came skipping over, taking his hand and dragging him to where Mary was smoothing down a blanket.

He looked at the mattress next to her and noticed a tell-tale stain on the ticking.

‘It was Will’s.’ Demelza said, pursing her lips. Ross gave Mary a questioning look and she sighed ans shrugged.

‘He was a nervous boy.’ she said. ‘Poor little thing couldn’t help it.’

‘I bet that made him lose a few friends.’ Ross remarked and then saw how her face twitched. ‘Did he even have any friends?’

‘This is a good school.’ Mary’s mouth looked pinched. ‘But if you’re the wrong kind of different they can be cruel.’ She held a hand out to Demelza. ‘Come along, my darling. Your father will be here shortly to take you home.’

Demelza moved to her side, then quickly ran back and threw both arms around Ross’ legs.

‘I’m glad you’re back.’ It was a fierce whisper and then she was skipping off again with Mary in pursuit.

Completely bemused, Ross followed until got to the place used by the staff as a common room. It had been the library at one time and though the shelves were mostly empty, the wood panelling and fireplace made it cosy. The staff were scattered about and he saw Jim at the far side, standing smoking by the window. He headed straight for him and the dimpled smile he got when he arrived was enough to make Ross’ heart thump just a little bit faster. He took out his cigarette case and lit one, then leaned against the sill.

‘I’ll be starting the first patrol tonight.’ he said by way of opening the conversation.

‘You make it sound like a military operation.’ Jim drawled, still smiling as he blew a thin line of smoke at the ceiling. ‘Will you require an escort?’

The thought of wandering the halls with Jim in the middle of the night was more distracting than it should have been and Ross had to put his professional face on, clearing his throat before he answered.

‘I shouldn’t think so.’ he told him. ‘No need for you to lose any sleep.’

‘As you wish.’ Jim inhaled, the glow of the ember lighting up his face. ‘How will you know if you’ve caught your ghost though?’

‘I’ve set up a series of bells as an alarm system.’ Ross said. ‘If they are tripped, it’ll be easy enough to hear.’

They continued to talk about the equipment until the call for dinner was made and they filed off to eat. Dinner was the same as breakfast and lunch had been, and Ross fell into easy conversation with Alastair again. He was talking about the history of the house and Ross listened, although he did sneak the odd glance over to Jim’s table where he was admonishing two of the boys for putting their elbows on the table and grinning.

‘So what happened to the original family?’ he asked and Alastair shrugged.

‘I do not know.’ he replied. ‘I believe that after the death of his wife, the owner took his son and they left for greener pastures.’ He sipped at his glass and set it back down. ‘The house was empty for some time until his death and was acquired by the school at auction.’ He looked around. ‘We have not had the money t make all the modifications we desired and now sadly it seems we may never do so.’

‘Well perhaps I shall solve your mystery this very evening and then you may allay any fears that your parents might press upon you tomorrow.’ Ross said.

‘I do hope so.’ Alastair was grave.

After dinner, the boys were sent to get ready for bed and Ross took the time to make sure everything was ready. He had his hand held light, powered by a pack that hung from a strap over his shoulder, and he was just climbing back over the thin trip wire at the door when Jim appeared. He had been helping Mary with the boys and was now in his shirtsleeves, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

‘You all set?’ he asked and Ross nodded.

‘If I get chased by the spectre of the former owner, I’ll be sure to call for your assistance.’ he replied, trying to bring some levity to the situation. Jim gave him a crooked smile and then tilted his head just so.

‘Call me if you don’t.’ he said and the lilt in his voice had Ross’ pulse jumping. He stared as Jim turned and walked back down the corridor, his footsteps dying away. He finally pulled himself together and stomped back down in the opposite direction, berating himself for reading things that probably were not there to begin with.

**********

It was after midnight and Ross was starting to think that this was surely the wild goose chase that he’d expected it to be. He’d done several rounds of the school, all the way up to the third floor and the empty rooms that used to belong to the staff at one point. There was precious little up there, except for peeling plaster and a few sticks of furniture, the only sounds that of the house creaking and his own steps.

Ross sighed and started to make his way back down, lingering on the landing of the second floor and looking down towards where Jim’s room was. He found himself wondering whether he was asleep and if the interest Ross though he was reading in his eyes was real. He let himself imagine for just a moment what it would be like to take those few steps to Jim’s door, to knock and wait for Jim to open it. He’d be sleep mussed, blond hair a mess and his bare skin gleaming in the light of Ross’ lamp. His mouth would be soft and yielding, opening under Ross easily and pulling him in until they were both drowning in it.

At first he didn’t hear the words because he was so lost in his fantasy, but then they came again and this time they were loud enough to rouse Ross from his trance and he almost dropped the lamp in his surprise.

‘Be quiet! You’ll be quiet or so help me!’

It was the same as before, the man’s voice harsh and unforgiving in its anger. Ross couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but then he heard the sound of footsteps running on the stairs above him and he took off, chasing after them.

He was halfway up when he heard the clinking and then stopped dead as he saw something rolling down from step to step. He stopped it with his foot and bent to pick it up, opening his hand and staring at the object. The marble was made of oddly smoked glass, eerily similar to the ones he’d played with as a boy, and he tested its surface with his thumb before putting it into his pocket and continuing upstairs.

The long corridor at the top was just as empty as when he’d left it but now Ross could make out a shaft of light at the end where a door had been left open and he stalked down the passage until he could fling himself into the space, coming up short as he realised that the room was empty but for a desk by the window and a large finely crafted dolls’ house on a stand to the left. It had evaded his earlier inspections and now Ross went over to it, filled with curiosity. The façade was a twin to the one he’d seen upon his arrival and Ross knelt down to peer in the windows. The rooms inside were empty when he unlatched the front and opened it.

The sound of childish whispers and a flicker of movement out the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned abruptly, only to see the empty doorway. The patter of retreating feet had him up and running again, following them through the labyrinth of passages until he started back down the service stars, only to turn a corner and run right into an obstacle.

Ross rebounded and nearly fell before a strong hand flew out and caught him. He found himself looking into light eyes and felt a surge of relief as he allowed the man to right him.

‘Are you all right?’ Concern was written all over Jim’s face. Ross noticed that he was still dressed, although he had lost his tie and his collar was open to reveal his pale throat and the faintest hint of hair at the lowest point. ‘I heard bells.’

‘Bells?’ Ross frowned and then he realised what Jim was saying. ‘Quickly, downstairs!’

He didn’t wait for Jim, just ran until his feet were hitting the floorboards of the ground floor and taking him right to the dormitory room. There he skidded to a stop, seeing the broken wire and a set of footprints leading from the room. Ross bent his head as he followed, light aloft until he got to the room that lead out onto the terrace and to one of the locked doors. Here the footprints stopped and he was confused for a second before he had the wherewithal to kneel and inspect the handle. Something clicked in his head and he reached out, fingers trailing over the cold metal before he brought them to his nose.

‘Ross?’ Jim was behind him, a warm hand coming to rest on Ross’ shoulder. ‘What is it?’

‘I think it may well be our ghost.’ he said, getting up. Jim frowned at him.

‘You’ve found something?’ he asked and Ross nodded.

‘Something pretty damn conclusive too.’ He wiped his hands down on his trousers, wanting to rid his fingers of the smell. ‘I think we may need to have a talk with the Headmaster in the morning.’

‘I can arrange that.’ Jim was staring past him at the door. ‘But I think I know where you’re going with this.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Why?’

‘We can only ask him.’ Ross said, moving past. He could hear the sound of someone speaking and knew that the bells had no doubt woken some of the boys. As he expected, Mary arrived in the doorway seconds later. She was in her dressing gown and slippers, long red hair in a braid over her shoulder. She held a hurricane lantern and the incongruity of it amused Ross and made him feel a little odd at the same time. He had a vague recollection of a woman doing the same when he was a child, a nanny if he recalled or perhaps another member of staff.

‘What happened?’ she asked and Jim went to her.

‘False alarm.’ he said. ‘Are the boys all right?’

‘Awake.’ she replied. ‘I came to ask if you would help me get them back down.’

‘Of course.’ Jim said. He turned to Ross. ‘I’ll see you in the morning then?’

Ross nodded and watched the light disappear so that he was left in a pool of illumination cast by his own. Almost without thinking, he stuck his hand in his pocket and felt the marble he’d put there. He drew it out and peered at it. It was scuffed and pockmarked, the blue and red swirls through the glass just visible.

_Please. Just one more game?_

The words came completely unbidden and shocked him so badly that he dropped the marble. It clinked on the floorboards and then rolled away. He watched it, frozen to the spot and expecting it to stop but it didn’t. Instead it rolled clear across the floor to the back wall and then stopped against the skirting board just under the alcove cupboard that ran along the left hand side of the fireplace.

Ross felt his stomach lurch, unsure as to what exactly was happening. The boy’s voice in his head had faded away and now he swore he could hear his own heart hammering against his ribs as his breathing came just a little harder. He fought back the first tendrils of panic and then strode across to the fireplace, kneeling to pick up the marble one again. He shoved it back in his pocket, getting to his feet and almost running back towards the doorway, not looking back once into the darkened room for fear of what he might see.


	4. Book of Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross presents his theory. However, it is not necessarily the end of the story...

The next morning saw Ross and Jim in the headmaster’s office, both of them looking a little worse for wear. It had been a late night during which they had checked the entire house for any signs of their mysterious intruder. There had been nothing to find, however, and Ross had gone to bed with a most perturbing sense of disquiet.

‘Are you sure?’ Alastair looked visibly upset.

‘It fits, Alastair.’ Jim was insistent. ‘We both know he’s quite capable of cruelty with the boys.’

‘But to knowingly endanger one’s life?’ Trelawney shook his head. ‘I just cannot believe that.’ He looked at Ross. ‘This is what you think?’

‘The evidence is pretty straight forward.’ Ross explained. ‘The bear that Mary said belonged to Will smelled like balsam. It’s the same smell that Vane has. And last night, when I touched the door handle that leads to the terrace Will was found my fingers carried the same scent.’ He looked at Jim and got a shrug. ‘I’m not saying he murdered the boy. But I am saying that he hasn’t told the whole truth.’

‘And last night?’ Alastair asked. ‘The noises you heard?’

‘I think that perhaps we have a case of someone trying to cover their tracks.’ Ross replied. ‘The voice I heard last night was that of a man, and Vane would certainly know his way around.’

He did not mention the marble. The marble that had somehow made its way into his pocket that morning while he dressed.

‘Very well.’ Alastair nodded at Jim. ‘Go and get him, James.’

‘Yes, Headmaster.’ Jim gave Ross a grim look as he passed. Ross waited until he was out the door and had closed it behind him before he continued.

‘This house.’ he started. ‘What can you tell me about the family who owned it before? Anything would help.’

‘A family that had a bit of a chequered history.’ Alastair said. ‘It was a long time before we acquired the property but people gossip and I was able to put together some sense of what happened.’ He sighed. ‘It’s an age old story. Man marries a beautiful woman quite a few years younger than himself, she died and so he packed up and moved and took the boy with him seemingly struck down by grief.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Apart from what I told you, I know nothing else. There were mutterings about him going abroad, but the estate was handled by a firm in London when we bought the house.’

Ross thought of the marble and the boy’s voice he’d heard in his head.

‘Were there other children?’ he asked and Alastair shook his head.

‘Not to my knowledge.’ he replied and then glanced past Ross to the door as it opened. ‘Charles.’

Ross did the same, watching as Charles came in. he was white as a sheet and Ross had no doubt that he knew something was afoot. This was more than likely going to be one of the easiest cases he’d ever solved.

‘You wanted to see me headmaster?’ he said and Alastair nodded.

‘Charles, we’ve had a rather disturbing development regarding young Manderley.’ He looked pained. ‘Please sit down.’

‘I’d rather stand, thank you.’ Vane was on the defensive, his eyes icy. ‘May I ask what I am being accused of?’

‘I think you know.’ Ross said and got a ferocious glare. Undaunted, he met Vane’s eyes with a glare of his own. ‘I know that you were the one who unlocked the door. I also think that you purposely left the boy outside and the fright of that led to his having an asthma attack which was probably the cause of his death.’

‘I most certainly did not!’ Vane spluttered, his face going red. ‘I was asleep and nowhere near the boy!’

‘You’re always up, Charles.’ Jim’s voice was soft, but there was steel underneath. ‘You walk the corridors at night. We all know that.’ His mouth was set in an angry line. ‘He was only a child, for God’s sake.’

‘It wasn’t me!’ Vane snarled and now his face was alarmingly bright. He started to wheeze, coughing as he stuck a hand in his pocket. ‘You’d love to get rid of me Hawkins, you and all the rest. I know how you and the others all laugh at me, the things you say. Poor old Vane. No use to anyone, couldn’t even go and fight!’ he broke off, the fit of coughing loud and thick sounding.

‘Christ.’ Jim huffed and went to him, hands out to help but Vane shoved him back and took a small brown bottle and his handkerchief from his pocket.

‘Leave me alone!’ he hissed, eventually getting the lid off and tipping the contents onto the handkerchief. The air was immediately filled with the pungent smell of balsam and Ross saw the instant Trelawney realised that what he’d been told was true. His face fell, eyes filled with disappointment as he watched Vane greedily inhale the fumes.

‘Oh, Charles.’ He sounded distraught. ‘Why?’

Vane collapsed into the spare chair, wheezing into his handkerchief. When he finally surfaced, his face was grey and his eyes haunted.

‘He was wandering around where he shouldn’t have been.’ he whispered. ‘I only wanted to scare him, toughen him up a little. It did me no harm when I was a boy…’ He trailed off and looked away. ‘I only meant to leave him out there a moment or two but I must have lost track of time. When I came back to get him, he was already cold.’

Ross had expected to feel vindication at having his theory proved right, but all he felt was emptiness. The boy would still be dead, and a man’s career was now ruined for a moment of madness. It wasn’t what he was accustomed to feeling.

Alastair sighed heavily and rubbed at his temple with the heel of one hand. He looked like he’d just aged ten years.

‘There will have to be repercussions.’ he said. ‘You know that, Charles. I cannot allow you to stay. The only reason I am not going to alert the authorities is that it would bring the school into even further disrepute and then it would surely be the end for all of us.’ He looked at Ross. ‘However, should Mr Poldark wish to report this, I will not stop him.’

‘I understand.’ Vane’s face was haggard. ‘What I did was unforgiveable. I have barely slept since it happened.’ He managed to get to his feet. ‘I’ll have my things packed and be gone by the time the school’s cleared out.’

‘I think that would be best.’ Alastair replied. ‘You understand that you will have to leave with no references.’

‘I count it lucky that I am being allowed to leave at all.’ Vane staggered as he got up and waved off Jim’s offer of help. He left, the sound of residual coughing eventually fading away.

Trelawney said nothing for a while and Ross looked at Jim. He had his hands on his hips, his own expression a mixture of disgust and concern.

‘Will you report him?’ he asked Ross and he nodded.

‘I have a good friend who is with the Met.’ He turned back to Alastair. ‘You understand I cannot let this go.’

‘I do.’ Alastair said. ‘And you will understand that I do not wish the school to be associated with this very unpleasant incident.’ He got up. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to collect my thoughts. The boys are due to have their final service and then be ready to be collected.’

‘Of course.’ Ross replied and Jim moved to his side.

‘I think seeing as what’s just happened that we might give the service a miss.’ Jim said and Trelawney paused at the door. He nodded and then left and Ross let out a deep breath.

‘I suppose you feel vindicated.’ Jim remarked. ‘No ghosts here it would seem. Just a man fighting them.’

‘Don’t we all though.’ Ross replied. ‘We all came back with our own.’

‘Yes we did.’ Jim sighed. ‘Come on, we’ll go for a walk.’

They walked down to the ornamental lake at the front of the house. There Ross took out his cigarette case and offered him one, lighting it and then his own. He stood and looked at the dark water. There was a little dock not too far from them and he wondered of anyone had used it for swimming.

‘So now what?’ Jim asked him and he shrugged.

‘I go back to London and write it up.’ he replied. ‘And then I call Dwight and hand it over.’

‘It was so needless.’ Jim muttered. ‘He didn’t think.’

‘I expect that he thought he was doing the right thing.’ Ross glanced at him, taking in the fine line of Jim’s elegant profile. He indulged himself a little, admitting the dull gleam of Jim’s gold hair and the scattering of freckles across his nose. ‘We do a lot in the name of good intentions.’

‘True.’ Jim inhaled deeply, cigarette held between his thumb and forefinger, a working class man’s hold. It made Ross think about what his life had been like before.

‘What have you experienced since being here?’ he asked and Jim’s eyebrows went up.

‘Personally?’ he said.

Ross frowned.

‘What else would I mean?’ He looked at Jim. ‘What have you heard?’

‘Enough to keep an open mind.’ Jim said. ‘May I ask why you are so keen to disprove everything you’ve seen?’

‘I dislike deception.’ Ross replied. ‘And giving hope to grieving families is exactly that.’

‘But what if they want the comfort?’ Jim asked. ‘What if the deception means nothing to them? Don’t they have the right to choose?’

‘No.’ Ross looked back at the water. He couldn’t see the bottom. ‘It is cruel to give them something that isn’t real. Something that is only an illusion.’

‘Everything is an illusion, Ross.’ Jim’s voice was tight. ‘All the truths we hold dear are nothing more.’ He took a last drag and then flicked the cigarette into the water. ‘The glory of battle, the nobility of dying for your country. Promises of love that never come to pass. Al illusions.’

‘You’re very cynical for a believer in the afterlife.’ Ross remarked.

‘I like to think there’s something better for us there.’ Jim stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘A place where we might find the people we lost in life. A place where the happiness we lose can be retrieved.’  
‘I take it all back. You’re a romantic.’ Ross snorted.

‘English teacher.’ Jim replied, a wry smile on his face.

*********

After the service in the makeshift chapel housed in one of the downstairs rooms, the parents began to arrive. Ross heard them through the windows of the dormitory, the sound of cars coming and going and people chattering.

Jim had told him he wouldn’t be able to return until the morning, when the next train was due and in truth he was secretly pleased to be able to stay another evening. For one thing, he was still bothered by the previous night’s incident with the marble and keen to investigate. For another, the growing attraction he felt for the young English master was making him more amenable to spending more time there.

He readjusted the wire and then got up, going to the table to check over the rest of the equipment. The sound of footsteps behind him made him look over his shoulder to see Demelza standing there. She had a doll in one hand, its legs dangling as she gave him a thoughtful look that was far too advanced for her years.

‘Do you use this to catch ghosts?’ she asked and Ross smiled at her and nodded as she approached the table.

‘I try to.’ he said. Demelza looked up at him, blue eyes piercing.

‘Have you caught any?’ Her voice was considering and Ross got the oddest feeling that he was being measured.

‘No real ones.’ he said. ‘Which is why I say they don’t exist.’

‘Yes, they do.’ Demelza was now poking at the camera. ‘I hear them.’

‘No, they don’t.’ Ross gently corrected her. ‘We found out that was Mr Vane walking around.’

‘Not all the time.’ Demelza frowned as he moved the camera out of her reach. ‘Sometimes we play together.’

‘You play with the ghosts?’ Ross was now listening with half an ear, expecting it to be the chattering of an overexcited child.

‘Only the one.’ Demelza replied. ‘But not the man with the shotgun. He scares me. He’s always shouting.’

‘The man with the shotgun.’ Ross turned back to the table. ‘What does he shout about?’

‘He always says the same thing.’ Demelza shrugged. ‘He says to be quiet or he’ll make us.’

Ross froze. When he looked at her again he could see she was clearly waiting for him to say something.

‘You have heard him say that? He kept his voice as neutral as he could. Demelza nodded and now her face was fearful.

‘He’s a mean man.’ she mumbled. ‘We have to hide when he’s here.’

‘What do you mean we?’ Ross asked. ‘Do you mean you and Will? And why did you say you were glad I was back yesterday?’

Demelza stuck a finger in her mouth.

‘I’m not supposed to say.’ She was getting more and more agitated. Ross was about to press her further when he heard Mary coming down the corridor.

‘There you are.’ She sounded relieved. ‘I’ve been looking for you, missy. Your father has come to take you home.’

Demelza left his side, going to Mary and taking her hand. Mary smiled at him, but it was strained and Ross knew that the news about Vane had affected her just as badly.

‘I’ll get her out of your hair.’ she said and tugged on Demelza’s hand. ‘Come along you.’

Just as they got the door, Demelza stopped and looked back at Ross.

‘You should give his marble back.’ she said. ‘It’s his favourite.’

Ross was utterly dumbfounded and barely got his wits together to question her before Mary hustled her down the corridor. He was just about to go after her but then stopped himself, telling himself that he had no place harassing a child for information.

Instead he left the dormitory to walk slowly back to the terrace room, toying with the marble in his pocket and thinking about what Demelza had said. There was a chance that she was mixed up, thinking that maybe it was one of the boys she was referring to. He came to the doorway and hesitated, eyes drawn to the fireplace and the skirting under the alcove cupboard. He was more than a little bit unsettled, but he also knew that he needed to take this as far as he could, so he stepped inside the room and looked around him. Here the paper was faded, a part of the house that they had yet to refurbish and the soft yellowed white was scattered with tiny flowers. He was just moving to examine one when the sound of someone knocking at the window startled him, and he jumped and clutched at his chest. When he saw it was Jim, he glared at him and walked over. He unlocked the doors and let him in.

‘That was the last of them.’ he said. ‘The staff too. Now it’s just the five of us.’

‘Six of us.’ Ross corrected without thinking and Jim shook his head.

‘Alastair is going away for the week.’ he said. ‘In light of what’s happened I feel that’s a sound decision.’ He bit his lip and for a moment he looked far younger than his years. ‘He saw Charles off. It wasn’t pleasant and I think he needs to recuperate a little. He has a sister in Liverpool that he’s going to stay with.’

‘So just us then.’ Ross said, feeling an odd twist in his stomach. ‘You’ll be in charge?’

‘Technically I think Mary outranks me.’ Jim’s mouth quirked. ‘But yes.’ He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘This has been one hell of a day.’

‘Well, I’ll be gone tomorrow.’ Ross assured him. ‘Then you can go back to normal.’

‘And tonight?’ Jim asked. ‘Will you need help packing this all up?’

Ross hesitated.

‘Not yet.’ he said. He turned away. ‘I thought I might leave it up for tonight. It won’t do any harm.’

‘But why leave it when you’ve already caught our ghost?’ Jim asked and then there was a telling pause and Ross knew he’d been discovered. ‘Unless you think there might really be a ghost?’

He huffed and turned back, trying to look stern. It was too late though, Jim was already grinning at him so broadly that his dimples were cavernous.

‘I think no such thing.’ he retorted and the smile only grew wider.

‘You do!’ Jim sounded smug. ‘The great disbeliever has seen something to shake his scepticism.’

‘It’s nothing.’ Ross protested, feeling ridiculous. ‘But I thought I heard something last night.’ He took the marble out of his pocket. ‘And this fell down the stairs while I was investigating.’ He had no idea why he was taking Jim into his confidence but he just felt like he had to.

‘It’s a marble, Ross.’ Jim took it from him, rolling it between his fingers. ‘I’m sure there are plenty around the school. The boys lose them all the time.’

‘Yes, but this one is different.’ Ross tossed the marble to the floor. It landed and rolled a little way then stopped. He held his breath and waited.

‘What…?’ Jim started and then gasped as the marble started to move across the floor, headed in the same direction it had the night before. It rolled until it bumped into the skirting in exactly the same place and Ross blew out the breath he was holding.

‘That.’ he said. ‘It happened last night as well, after you’d gone back to help Mary.’

They both stood rooted to the spot until Jim shook himself out of it and stalked off to go and inspect the marble. He picked it up and moved back to where Ross was standing and then dropped it.  
The marble didn’t move.

Ross’ face creased up in consternation and he huffed. Jim shrugged.

‘Maybe there’s an incline.’ he said. ‘That could account for it. Something too subtle for us to notice.’

Ross was about to answer when the marble took off, rolling right back to where it had been while they both gaped at it. He gave Jim an arch look.

‘Explain that then.’ he said and Jim frowned in confusion. He walked to retrieve the marble and handed it to Ross.

‘Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern.’ He knelt and placed the marble at his feet. They both watched intently and this time the marble took off like a shot, fairly ramming into the skirting.

‘Bloody hell.’ Ross breathed. His eyes were wide and he could feel how his heart was racing.

Jim was more proactive. He strode over to the alcove cupboard and then knelt.

‘Why here?’ he asked and Ross followed him.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked and Jim indicated the cupboard.

‘The same place.’ He reached for the polished brass knob and pulled the door open. Predictably the cupboard was empty. Ross crouched down next to him and peered inside. He was used to trying to spot minutiae and that was why the scratches on the back panel caught his attention.

‘Wait a moment.’ He leaned in past Jim and tapped at the panel. It sounded hollow and when he pressed against it, it gave.

‘Now that is interesting.’ Jim murmured and their eyes met. ‘Open it, then.’

‘Very well, but if a rat jumps out from behind there I’m abandoning ship.’ Ross replied in an effort to lighten the mood. He felt along the edge of the panel, managing to wedge his fingers into a slight gap and then the panel slid back. It stuck, clearly from age and dirt, but he got it far enough that they could see there was a gap behind the cupboard. Not only that but it was deep enough that someone could fit inside it.

‘Could you bring me my light?’ Ross asked and Jim got up. He moved so he could get inside head first, the cramped space making him hunch over. A few moments later and Jim was back, coming in to crouch next to him and hand him the light, keeping the power pack at his feet.

Ross moved further in and now he could see that the space was just big enough to hide someone small, a child perhaps. He shone the light, taking in the walls that were unpainted and covered in a thick layer of dust. The floor was still wood and when he glanced down he saw something that made his gut churn. He traced the dark stains with his fingers, saw how it was worked deep into the wood. There was no mistaking what it might be and he shivered.

‘Ross?’ Jim sounded worried. ‘Are you all right in there?’

‘Yes.’ Ross cleared his throat and then looked around him again. His light caught something at the back, a gleam, and he crawled in as far as he could, stretching one arm to try and reach what it was. His fingers brushed what felt like fur and he recoiled, fear bubbling up inside him before he managed to get himself under control. He tried again and felt the shape of something wedged behind the piece of wood that supported the space and then he was pulling it out and bring the light forward to see what it was.

Now his blood ran cold, the fear inside him intensifying, and the toy rabbit looked back with flat glass eyes. It had been white once upon a time, but now it was grubby and brown. It wore a little red velvet jacket that was much faded and clotted with dust. What had once been a pink silk nose was rubbed away, the matching insides of the ears water-stained.

‘What is that?’ Jim asked and it was enough to break the spell. Ross wriggled back out, shoving the rabbit at him and then working his way out as quickly as he could without giving himself away.  
‘Do you recognise it?’ he asked and Jim shook his head, now examining the toy.

‘It’s not one of the boys’.’ he replied. ‘It looks like it’s been there for a very long time.’ His fingers ran over the rabbit’s fur and then he pulled up the back of its jacket. There was a cord and a single wooden ring. He hooked his finger through it and pulled, and then the rabbit began to sing in an eerie little voice.

_Coccinelle, demoiselle,_  
_Bête à Bon Dieu,_  
_Coccinelle, demoiselle,_  
_Vole jusqu'aux cieux._

‘Christ.’ Ross breathed. He stared at the toy in Jim’s hands.

‘You understand it?’ Jim asked and he nodded.

‘It’s French.’ He dug his nails into his palms to stop his hands from shaking. ‘I had one when I was a boy. My father was very set on me learning the language.’ He took the rabbit back from Jim and looked into its eyes, the glass coloured red to mimic the real animal.

‘What happened to it?’ Jim asked. His face was set, his own hands resting on his knees.

‘It was lost.’ Ross breathed out hard and then got up. ‘It must have belonged to someone who was here, clearly.’ Then he thought back. ‘Alastair told me there was a boy here.’

‘As far as I know, that’s correct.’ Jim replied. He nodded at the cupboard. ‘It would be a fine place to hide to a child.’

‘That it would.’ Ross said and closed the door. He held out a hand and Jim gave him the rabbit. ‘I think we should hang on to this for the time being.’

‘Agreed.’ Jim stood up. ‘Perhaps a sweep of the house is also in order. Just to be sure.’

‘Lead the way.’ Ross said and went to set the rabbit down on the table.

**********

They started back on the top floor, moving from room to room. This time Ross made not of everything he saw, marking the layout in the notebook he carried as well as where all the staircases were situated. There were several routes onto each floor which made it perfectly viable for someone to evade notice of they so chose.

Ross felt his pulse pick up again as they got closer to the room with the doll’s house in and it was there waiting for them when they arrived.

‘That’s another question mark.’ he said to Jim. ‘Why a doll’s house if there were no girls?’

‘Could be any reason.’ Jim replied, seemingly not too puzzled. ‘Perhaps it was the wife’s or from children before.’ He regarded it. ‘It’s a perfect replica, isn’t it?’

‘It bothers me.’ Ross muttered. He lingered nearer the door, refusing to go any closer. ‘This is where I was when I heard the sound of a child last night.’

‘Also easily explained.’ Jim said. ‘Tonight shall be a different matter. Tom has taken Demelza home and so there are no children at all in attendance.’

‘She’s a sharp little thing.’ Ross didn’t mention what she had told him about the shouts and the marble. ‘It must be lonely for her when the children leave.’

‘She has a vivid imagination.’ Jim said. ‘She keeps herself well-entertained.’

‘Where is her mother?’ Ross asked.

‘Died in childbirth.’ Jim told him. ‘She’s only ever had her father.’

‘Like mine.’ Ross found himself saying and Jim cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘It turned my father into a right curmudgeon.’

‘Not him.’ Jim smiled. ‘Tom is nothing but gentle with her. He loves her to distraction and wouldn’t let anything harm her. He’s mother and father both, although Mary does the best she can as well.’

‘She never had children of her own?’ Ross was curious.

‘No.’ Jim came back to the doorway, dusting off his hands. ‘She was in service though.’

‘Yes, she told me.’ Ross said. ‘Does she have a connection to the house?’

‘Again no.’ Jim said. ‘She was employed by Alastair and came when the school opened.’ His blue-green eyes were now intent. ‘Where are you going with this, Ross?’

‘I’m not sure yet.’ Ross replied. ‘But I mean to find out.’


	5. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to fall into place, although they may not make much sense yet.

If Ross had found the house disquieting before, it was nothing compared to what it was like devoid of its pupils and staff. Now shadows seemed to lengthen in every corner and the sounds of the house seemed almost ominously loud to his ears. 

They were in the kitchen while Mary cooked them dinner, and the conversation she was having with Jim sounded too loud and too forced for Ross to settle. He was uneasy, clicking his lighter incessantly and chewing at a thumb nail. He eventually realised that the kitchen was in silence and looked up to see both Mary and Jim staring at him.

‘Ross?’ Jim’s golden brows drew down. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I need some air.’ he said, getting up. ‘I think I’ll go out on the terrace for a bit.’

‘Don’t be too long.’ Mary chided. ‘Dinner will be ready soon.’

‘I’m not a child, Mary.’ Ross reminded her, smiling when she clicked her tongue at him.

‘You don’t want me to come with you?’ Jim asked and Ross shook his head. 

‘I could do with a bit of quiet.’ he replied. ‘I need to think things over.’

‘Suit yourself.’ Jim said, but the troubled look didn’t quite leave his face.

Ross left them, walking down to the terrace room. He escaped outside, looking out over the front lawns as he walked to the edge of the terrace to lean against the stones. The fog was back, sitting on the grass like a blanket and that was when he saw just the slightest movement. At first, he thought it might be Tom but then he realised the person was far too short, the height of a child.

He stood perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe as he watched. Now he could see a little better as the fog seemed to clear enough for him to see that it was a small boy running across the lawn in the direction of the ornamental lake, right to the dock where he and Jim had stood the day before. 

The boy didn’t look back but Ross could see that he was dark haired and wearing clothing that did not correlate to the uniform the pupils of Trelawney wore. Chances were that he might be a trespasser but Ross was curious and so he took off down the steps and across the wet grass after him. 

The boy ran just far enough ahead that Ross could see he was heading for the dock, but when he got there the boy seemed to have vanished into thin air. He frowned and walked out, his shoes slipping a little on the damp wood. He got to the end and huffed in annoyance, looking around him as the fog drew in close once again. 

The lapping of the water against the pilings below him was quiet, and there was nothing in the way of other sounds. It was the most calm Ross had felt since arriving and he dug into his pocket for his cigarette case almost without thinking. He lit the cigarette, pondering just how all of this fitted in. The boy was more than likely a local as he’d surmised, come to play in the school grounds now that everyone had left. Seeing Ross had obviously scared him off. 

His thoughts had clearly made him lose track of what he was doing because the next second he heard the sound of something heavy falling into the water and broke out of his fugue to look down and see that his hand was empty.

‘No.’ He breathed in sharply, panic welling up in great waves. ‘No, no, no…’ He looked down and saw a tell-tale mark on the edge of the dock where his lighter had clearly hit the wood and then bounced over into the water. 

Ross dropped to his knees, mindless of getting his trousers wet or dirty and consumed with the knowledge that he had to get his lighter back. He braced against the edge of the dock and looked down into the water, hoping against hope that he would be able to find it. 

After what felt like forever, he finally spotted a gleam in the dark water and leaned over precariously to get a better look. Now that he’d spotted it, the lighter did not seem that far out of reach, hidden in weed at the bottom of one of the pilings. 

Cursing, he sat back on his heels, discarding his jacket and rolling up his sleeves so as not to et too wet in his rescue effort. He half considered going back to the house to ask Jim for help and then abandoned that idea and leaned back over to the water. 

It was icy cold when he stuck his arm in, and Ross hissed in discomfort and kept going. He was now almost halfway off the dock, using his other hand to brace himself so that he didn’t fall in The weed brushed the tips of his fingers and it was slimy, making him recoil before he berated himself for acting like a scared child and going back in. He finally managed to reach the lighter, just touching the ridges of the engraved metal surface, when someone spoke behind him.

‘Ross.’ 

The voice that said his name was so clear that it might have been spoken in his ear and it gave him such a fright that he completely overbalanced and then he was in the water. 

The cold was magnified a thousand fold once your entire body was immersed in it Ross found, and he felt himself lose all control of his lungs as the breath was punched out of him. He flailed under the water, vaguely wondering how he’d ever though it shallow enough for him to reach the bottom, sinking like a stone until a cloud of silt went up around him. His chest was burning and his lungs ached for air and when Ross looked up, he could just make out the surface of the lake with the weak winter sunlight filtering through in an eerie green glow. 

He knew he had to swim, to get back up into the sir before he drowned, but a strange lassitude filled him and his limbs were quite useless. He closed his eyes and felt himself start to slip away as the darkness crept in on him. It wasn’t altogether unwelcome.

The next moment though he was being caught in string hands and yanked up from the bottom, dragged to the surface in somebody’s arms. His head broke through the surface and he gasped for air, choking and coughing frantically as he spat out mouthfuls of silty water. 

‘Help me get him up!’ a voice all but shouted and then Ross was being pulled and pushed at the same time, laid out on the dock when he was up and rolled onto his side. He retched helplessly, more water and mud spewing from of his mouth. 

‘That’s it, lad.’ Tom’s deep voice was soothing. ‘Get it all out.’

‘Is he all right?’ It was Demelza and her shadow fell across Ross’ face as she watched him, fear on her little face.

‘Aye he’ll be right, lass.’ Tom nodded at the house. ‘Go run for Mary. Tell her she needs to get a warm bath drawn and the fire set.’

Demelza took off, her shoes hammering on the dock, and then another shadow took her place, a gentle hand resting on Ross’ head. 

‘You stupid bugger.’ Jim sounded half furious and half terrified. ‘What the bloody hell do you think you were playing at?’

Ross could hardly breathe, but he managed to grit out his explanation.

‘I dropped it.’ It came out as a wheeze. ‘I dropped my lighter.’ He managed to squint open one eye and saw Jim frowning at him. 

‘It’s all right, Ross. It's just a lighter.’ His voice sounded odd. 

‘No, it's not!’ Ross tried to get up to look, but Tom’s hand pressed him back down. ‘You don't understand!’

‘I'll try and look for it later.’ Tom rumbled and Ross tried to shake his head because that wasn’t right. He was too exhausted to protest though and when he’d finally gotten his breath back, Tom and Jim got him onto his feet and slung his arms over their shoulders, dragging him between them back to the house.

**********

The excitement caused by Ross falling into the lake wore on late into the afternoon and finally that turned into evening.

They were now in the kitchen eating, just the three of them. Demelza and Tom had declined to join them for dinner and Ross felt uncomfortable, especially after his little dramatic display. Mary was also unsettled, worrying at the edges of her apron, and Jim was quiet as he ate. He occasionally caught Ross’ eye and the events of that afternoon came back to haunt him.

It felt rather like a night before going over the top and that disturbed Ross more than he wanted to confess. 

‘Will you be up tonight?’ Mary finally asked once they had finished eating. She had her fork in one hand, their dinner of stew and dumplings cooling on her plate. 

‘I think that would be best.’ Jim replied. ‘You’ll be all right?’ He had been hovering ever since they’d brought Ross back, getting him into the bath Mary had drawn and bringing him clean clothes while Ross was submerged in much cleaner, warmer water.

‘I will.’ Mary replied. ‘But I have no stomach for this horrid business.’ She more than anyone had been shaken badly by the revelations surrounding Manderley’s death. 

‘I think we will be able to handle this by ourselves.’ Jim told her, a gentle hand on her arm. ‘We’ll see you in the morning.’

Mary nodded and then stood up. 

‘I have no appetite.’ she said. ‘I’ll clear up and then go to bed.’ 

Jim gave Ross a look, inclining his head slightly towards the door. Ross nodded and they got up, thanked Mary for dinner and made their way back to the dormitory room. The search of the house that afternoon had turned up nothing and now they were going to make sure all the equipment was set. 

Once they were done, Jim put his hand on Ross’ arm, his touch burning through his shirtsleeve. 

‘I suggest we go sit in the common room.’ he said. ‘It’s better than hanging around waiting here.’ 

Ross held out a hand and Jim moved past him so that he caught a hint of his cologne. He was not sure if it was the extraordinary circumstances that he found himself in, but his senses seemed like they had gone into overdrive. The light scent made heat flare in his chest and it took great self-control to not reach out and catch Jim by the arm and pull him in. 

Instead he followed him to the common room, the fire lit and the air much warmer than in the rest of the house. Here it felt comparatively cosy and Ross gratefully took a seat next to the fireplace. He had to use a box of matches to light a cigarette, the pain of losing his lighter tearing at his heart, and then watched as Jim went over to the sideboard and came back with two tumblers, a couple of inches of amber liquid in each one. He handed one glass to Ross and Ross sniffed the whisky. 

‘I suppose a drink is probably required at this point.’ he said and Jim’s wry smile was back as he sat down in the chair next to him. 

‘I think we’ve both earned one.’ he replied. ‘I don’t mind saying that I am more than little shaken by what happened this afternoon.’

‘That makes two of us.’ Ross replied and watched Jim light his own cigarette. He looked up, the firelight making his eyes glow. 

‘Can I ask you something?’ he said and Ross’ mouth quirked. 

‘I think I can guess what it might be.’ he said and Jim shrugged. 

‘The lighter. It was from someone special?’ he said. 

‘It was.’ Ross replied, his heart skipping a beat. ‘It was the last thing they gave me. At least from what I remember about them, I think it was.’

‘That’s explains a lot.’ Jim asked. ‘I can’t help but feel like this has all been very personal for you.’ He regarded Ross over the rim of his glass. 

‘Is that why you think I do this then?’ Ross was good at deflection and he did not expect Jim to smile at him, nor did he expect that smile to be as full of sadness as it was.

‘I think you lost someone.’ he said. ‘Someone you loved and this is your way of dealing with the pain you feel. If you know that there is no way you could ever find this person on the other side of our plane of existence, then why should anyone else find comfort.’

The harshness of that statement cut right through Ross. He scowled at Jim, but he was also struck by just how well the man had read him. He said nothing, sinking in on himself and staring into the flames. 

Jim fell silent as well and it was like that for a long moment until he breathed in and then spoke again.

‘I lost someone too.’ he said and Ross looked at him. 

‘Who?’ he asked and then kicked himself internally for displaying a terrible lack of manners. Jim didn’t seem to mind, dimples flickering as he seemed to fall into a memory that had him smiling. 

‘Someone I loved, just like you.’ he replied. ‘It was in the war.’ The simple statement carried more weight than Ross realised at first and then he figured out what Jim was alluding to. It was a thing that was never spoken of but now he knew for certain that his attentions would not necessarily be as unwelcome as he might think. That comforted him and also made him feel the fluttery sensation of panic that he always associated with his unnatural attraction.

‘I’m sorry.’ he said and then bowed his head. ‘And you’re right. I know how that feels.’ 

‘I thought you might.’ Jim leaned back and that threw his face into shadow. ‘I don’t know what’s worse, the loss or having to hide it.’

‘Were you together long?’ Ross asked, wanting to tread carefully but also filled with burning curiosity.

‘A fair time.’ Jim replied. ‘But then he never came back.’ He drank again, emptying his glass and then got up. ‘Maybe it was for the best. He was never very comfortable with what we meant to each other.’

That made Ross feel guilty and he looked back at the flames.

‘Maybe he was scared.’ he replied, letting his own emotion s colour his words. There was a clink behind him and Jim came back with the bottle, topping up Ross’ glass before refilling his own.

‘You sound like you’re speaking from experience.’ he said and Ross sighed. 

‘I broke it off.’ He had never told anyone this and it felt like it was being cut out of him. ‘I got engaged to someone else and told him we could never be together.’ His hands shook around the glass. ‘And then he was killed and I never got to tell him how sorry I was that I did that. That maybe I shouldn’t have sacrificed myself for what I was expected to do.’

‘And was it worth it?’ Jim asked. ‘You clearly never went through with the marriage.’

‘I think she knew.’ Ross said and then gestured vaguely at his face. ‘This didn’t help.’

‘What happened?’ Jim asked and he drew in a deep breath. 

‘A shell.’ he said. ‘When I woke up I had lost half my memories. I don’t even know what his name was or what he looked like. All I have are some letters and that damned lighter.’ He had to bite back the surge of despair. ‘He gave it to me.’ 

‘It’s more than I have.’ Jim bit his lip. ‘There was a fire.’ His face was drawn and Ross could see the pain there. ‘I lost everything.’

That made Ross’ heart ache in sympathy and he wanted to reach out, to offer comfort but he felt so inadequate in doing so and so lost in his own misery. 

‘I’m sure he knew how much you loved him.’ he finally said, his voice rough. ‘I can’t imagine you ever holding back. I cannot say the same. I carry it with me all the time.’ He looked back down at his hands. ‘I think I died when that shell landed, at least on the inside.’

‘And now you chase ghosts.’ Jim’s dimples flickered but there was no humour in it. ‘I now understand a little better why you do.’ His eyes were sharp. ‘Do you ever wish you could be wrong?’

‘All the time.’ Ross told him. ‘I would gladly declare myself a fool if only I could find him and tell him what he meant to me.’

Their eyes met and Ross knew that right at that moment he was as exposed as he’d ever been, that Jim would be able to see everything. He had expected to be terrified of that happening, and yet all he felt was a bizarre sort of comfort knowing that Jim had gone through the same thing he had and understood. The tension built until Ross felt as if one move from either of them would ignite the air between them but he couldn’t look away. He opened his mouth to say something and then it happened.

The sound of the bell was so loud that it felt as if the damn thing was right next to his ear and he jumped, dropping his tumbler to the ground where it rolled over the thick rug. 

Jim was on his feet in an instant and Ross followed hot on his heels, both of them skidding around the corner in their rush to get to the room. When they got to the doorway, the wire was still intact and nothing seemed out of place. 

They stood there panting from their sprint and Jim out his hands on his hips. 

‘What are the odds that it was tripped by a mouse?’ he asked and Ross shook his head and then almost stopped breathing when he looked at the Marconi detector. It was spinning like a top and they both stared at it. 

‘I’m no physics master.’ Jim said, his eyes not leaving the brass arrow. ‘But I am fairly sure it is not supposed to be doing that.’

‘No.’ Ross’ face hardened and he clenched his hands into fists. ‘It most certainly is not.’

The scream from upstairs made them both flinch, and now Jim’s face was white. It had clearly been a woman’s voice, high pitched and utterly terrified. 

‘Ross…’ He moved to stand closer. ‘What the bloody hell was that?’

The sound of something large and heavy hitting the floor startled Ross into moving. He took off, hurdling the wire at the doorway in his chase. He heard Jim calling after him but there was no way he was stopping and before he knew it he was on the first floor. He stopped to listen and then saw the fleeing shadow out the corner of his eyes and went after it, taking the back staircase up and up until he was in the long corridor of the servants’ quarters. 

‘Ross!’ Jim’s voice was on the move as he pursued Ross up the stairs but he didn’t linger. Instead he charged down the corridor until he got to the room from before, the one with the doll’s house and stopped dead in the doorway.

There were lights coming from the windows, steaming through and throwing patterns on the bare floor.

Ross’ blood ran cold and he barely recognised the choked off sound that he made as coming from him. He felt like he couldn’t move, especially when he started to see tiny shadows moving behind the windows. 

He dragged himself closer, every hair on his arms standing straight up and his very being screaming in protest, but he had to see. 

He had to.

‘You’ll be quiet!’ The man’s voice thundered in his ears. ‘You’ll be quiet or so help me!’

He got close enough to crouch, to look through the windows and see a woman on her knees, hands raised to defend herself as a man with a shotgun took aim.

‘Please.’ She was begging, her fear almost tangible. ‘Please, no!’ 

‘Unfaithful bitch!’ The man raised the shotgun, took aim and blew her head apart. Blood spattered in microscopic droplets across the floor and then a hand came down on his shoulder. 

Ross yelled loud enough to wake the dead himself. He fell to the side, frantically fighting off the hand and then scrabbling across the floor until he ended up with his back pressed against the wall. The hands were still coming at him and he ducked his head until he was caught by the shoulders and shaken hard.

‘Ross!’ Jim was shouting in his face. ‘For Christ’s sake it’s me!’

He stopped fighting, his eyes wide and panicked as he allowed Jim to hold him still until he stopped panting. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, and took a shuddering breath.

‘The doll’s house.’ He threw out an arm. ‘Did you see it?’

‘See what?’ Jim’s confusion was sincere and Ross looked over to see that the miniature windows were dark and there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary.

‘You didn’t see it?’ he groaned and Jim’s face creased in concern.

‘All I heard was you screaming bloody murder.’ he replied. I came in and you looked like you were about to have a fit.’ 

‘I wasn’t screaming.’ Ross protested. ‘Not until you put your hand on me.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Jim sighed and hung his head. ‘You scared me.’

‘I scared you?’ Ross was incredulous and then he couldn’t control himself anymore. The laugh came out near hysterical but he couldn’t stop himself. 

‘Jesus.’ Jim slumped to sit on the floor next to him. ‘This is utter madness, I hope you know.’

‘So now what?’ Ross asked, brining one knee up and leaning his elbow on it. ‘We can’t spend the whole night doing this.’

‘I say we go back downstairs.’ Jim said. ‘We can hole up in the common room. I personally don’t particularly feel like sleeping after that.’

‘Neither do I.’ Ross watched him get up and then took the offered hand, Jim hauling him to his feet. 

They went back downstairs at a far slower pace, sticking close to each other. Ross had run off without a light and so they had to watch their footing. At the bottom of the stairs, they passed the room and then Ross noticed that something was amiss. He went into the room and there was the distinct odour of the chemicals from the powder that set off the camera. 

‘It caught something.’ He went to the camera and then grinned madly at Jim. ‘Bloody hell, we might have a picture of it.’ 

‘Is that even possible?’ Jim was aghast. 

‘Only one way to find out.’ Ross replied, his mouth set. 

Jim helped him set up a darkroom in one of the smaller unused bedrooms on the first floor, just around the corner from their own. They worked in near silence, still shaken by what had happened, and Ross directed him to pour out the chemicals. The only light was from the hand light, now heavily shaded. The strong chemical smells filled the space between them and every now and then their shoulders brushed as Ross retrieved the trays and set them out, pouring out the liquids and then opening the photographic plate and removing the print. He submerged it first in the developer. As if by magic, shades began to appear on the white sheet and Jim came to peer over his shoulder, warm breath ghosting over Ross’ cheek. 

He removed the print and then lowered it into the fixer, gently tipping the tray so the paper moved in the liquid. The final treatment was in the tray of water and then they both stared in astonishment at the picture.

It was the dormitory room, the camera capturing the doorway and some of the corridor beyond where the tripwire had been stretched. Now though, there was something else and it made Ross feel almost sick as he made out the shape of a little boy standing in the doorway, his face a blur but still readily identifiable. He was dark haired and judging from the height of him against the doorway he was probably about the same age as Jim’s charges and the little girl that had the run of the house. 

‘Ross…’ Jim sounded strangled. ‘Is that…?’

‘Our ghost.’ he breathed, his own chest tight with fear and exhilaration all rolled up into one. ‘We found our ghost.’

**********

Down in the gatehouse Tom sat and smoked his pipe, the sweet aromatic smell of his tobacco and the tendrils of smoke clinging to his thick jumper. Demelza was on the rug in front of the fire, playing with her doll. 

‘Not long now.’ she said and looked up at her father. He smiled at her and stuck his pipe back in his mouth, clenching it between his teeth so it settled into the groove that was worn from use. 

‘You think he’ll remember?’ he asked and Demelza nodded. 

‘We do.’ She sounded far more sure than a girl of her years had any right to be. ‘You’ll see.’ She got up and came over, resting her head on his arm while he kissed the top of her head. 

‘To bed with you, my pet.’ he said. ‘You are awake far too late.’

‘Goodnight, Papa.’ Demelza put both arms around his neck. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too my darling girl.’ Tom replied and patted her arm. 

**********

Ross sat on the edge of the bed, the photograph in his hands and feeling completely drained. Far too much had happened and he was at a loss as to how to even begin to explain things. 

‘Ross?’ Jim’s voice was soft. ‘Will you be all right?’ He was standing in the doorway of Ross’ borrowed room, the shadows falling across his face and the lamplight tinting his hair gold. For a moment Ross was seized with a terrible desire to throw himself at him and kiss the full line of his mouth, tug at his shirt and ease the braces off his shoulders until he could get to the skin underneath. He wanted, and now he was starting to realise just how much.

He folded his hands in his alp and stared at them, noting how the nails had been chewed down to the quick. He hadn’t even realised he’d fallen back into the old childhood habit. 

‘I need to sleep.’ he said. ‘Things will look different in the morning.’ He shook his head. ‘None of this makes sense.’ 

No it doesn’t.’ Jim sighed and knocked his head back against the doorframe. ‘I’m going to bed. I’ll wake you in the morning if you’re not up yet.’ 

Ross nodded, still reluctant to do anything that might compromise himself and Jim gave him a half-smile and went back through the bathroom. Ross heard the door close and then he was alone again with his thoughts.

He hadn’t meant to reveal so much about himself and now he was starting to regret opening up. It was like letting a genie out of the lamp and Ross wanted to go back and keep hiding himself away. He didn’t want to feel these things he was feeling, being so out of control of himself and wanting things he hadn’t wanted for a very long time. The turmoil raged inside him and he reached for his cigarette case, hoping it would calm his nerves. All it did was highlight just how badly his hands were shaking as he lit it, the rich scent of the tobacco filling his nose. 

There was so much he didn’t remember but there was also enough to make his mouth dry and his heart stutter when he dredged the memories up from where he kept them buried. He recalled music, a gramophone playing and the stink of sweat and semen in the close confines of a cheap hotel room somewhere south of the river. He closed his eyes and got flashes of wind-burned skin and felt the drag of short nails down his back. It was enough to make him inhale sharply and then he was on his feet, stopping only to extinguish his cigarette.

Jim’s door wasn’t locked when he threw it open and the only light was from Jim’s bedside lamp. He was standing at his dresser getting ready for bed, barefoot with his shirt unbuttoned to reveal the undershirt he wore beneath and braces hanging from his trousers. He had a cigarette in his mouth and his gold brows knitted together in query as Ross walked towards him.

‘Ross?’ He took it out and exhaled, the smoke curling around his face and turning him into a vision of loveliness. 

Ross gave in, striding purposely the last few feet until they were toe to toe. He took the cigarette from Jim’s fingers, crushing it in the cut glass ash tray on the dresser before he caught him by the side of his neck. He dragged his thumb along that full mouth, Jim’s lips parted ever so slightly even as his light eyes widened and Ross felt himself falling even as he leaned in and kissed him. 

Jim’s mouth was warm and firm, his breath tasting of smoke and whiskey. He was not long caught off guard, his own hands coming up and reaching for Ross as he tilted his head, the kiss deepening in a desperate push and pull until they were both breathing hard through their noses. He felt emboldened and met the touch of Jim’s tongue with his own and then Jim caught hold of them as the kiss turned open-mouthed. He grabbed at Ross’ braces, shoving them off his shoulders and his hands going to Ross’ shirt, fingers shaking as he tried to get it undone as quickly as possible. Ross couldn’t wait that long, hauling him back in and bring their mouths back together in a clash of teeth that tasted of copper, sliding his hands around Jim’s waist. Jim moaned and moved against him.

‘You slow bastard.’ he panted when they broke apart again. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me since you opened that damned compartment door.’ 

Ross shut him up, ploughing back in with a singlemindedness that had only one objective. He pulled at Jim’s shirt, getting it off before sliding his hands under the thin cotton of Jim’s undershirt across smooth heated skin. He thumbed over hardened nipples and Jim gasped and pulled back long enough to rip it over his head and discard it on the floor, catching Ross by the waistband of his trousers and hauling him towards the bed. 

They crashed onto it, thrashing in their mutual attempts to get rid of their remaining clothes. Jim was underneath him, his smile brilliant as he worked at the button of Ross’ trousers and shoved them down past his hips as Ross kissed a line down his neck to where it joined his shoulder, licking at the skin there. 

‘Get these damn things off.’ Jim muttered and Ross retaliated by biting his neck. This felt overwhelmingly familiar but he surmised that even though he’d not been intimate with anyone since the war ended, that it was much like riding a bicycle. Certainly every drag of his fingers over Jim’s newly exposed skin was the right move if his escalating moans were anything to go by. 

Jim had worked off his own clothes and Ross took a second to appreciate the lithe form beneath him. He had a scar running across his chest, the edges flared and strangely molten in the way that burn scars were and Ross drew a fingertip lightly along it. Jim watched him, pupils huge and his mouth wet as he breathed hard, his eyes falling closed when Ross spread his fingers and ran his hand up the mat of dark gold hair until he could rest it against Jim’s neck.

‘How?’ he asked, leaning down to kiss the word from Jim’s mouth.

‘The fire.’ he whispered. 

‘On the ship?’ Ross asked and Jim nodded, reaching up to take Ross’ hand and bring it down to rest over his heart, where he could feel the steady thud under his palm. It calmed him, soothed his mind and brought him back to what he was doing.

‘Shouldn’t you be dead then?’ He couldn’t help the wry smile he gave Jim, knowing how close it was between life and death. 

‘Probably. Still alive though.’ Jim’s eyes looked bottomless, an endless sea of night water. ‘Turns out it takes quite a bit to kill me.’ 

Ross held his gaze, their eyes locking, and then Jim was arching up to meet him as he fell back down and the slide of their heated skin was almost too much for him to bear. His cock was unbearably hard and he kicked off his remaining clothing, Jim moving his legs apart to settle Ross between them. He hissed as the friction between them grew, thrusting down as Jim responded by moving up against him. His fingers were at the back of Ross’ head, gripping the short hair hard enough to bring a delicious flare of pain, while his other hand was on Ross’ arm, digging into his bicep as they moved together. 

‘I missed this.’ He had no idea why he said that but the look on Jim’s face was enough to make him break and drop his head until their foreheads were pressed together. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know why…’

‘Don’t.’ Jim nosed at him. ‘You can pretend I’m him.’ His breath was warm as it ghosted over Ross’ mouth. ‘I don’t care.’

Ross reached down between them, feeling how they were both slick and stony hard. He started slow, the easy pace making them both moan and then grew faster, bolder. He buried his face in Jim’s neck, warm skin under his lips as he tasted the racing pulse point under his tongue and felt Jim’s mouth on his shoulder. He bit down just hard enough to bruise and Ross closed his eyes, letting his climax roll over him until he was barely able to breathe, his whole body shaking with the force of it. 

He spilled warm wetness over his hand and heard the way Jim was breathing, harsh and erratic as he followed. His nails dug into Ross’ back, raking down and leaving contrails of fire in their wake until he was spent, falling back onto the pillows and exhaling slowly. Ross watched him, the look of perfect bliss on Jim’s face picking away at the haze in his mind. 

‘You’re beautiful.’ he murmured and Jim smiled, dimples shadows on his cheeks.

‘I’ve been trying to get you to notice since you opened your front door.’ The confession was made with a flash of white teeth. ‘You have no idea how truly devastatingly handsome you, Captain Poldark.’

The epithet sent a shiver down Ross’ spine and he looked away. 

‘I used to be.’ he replied and then his face was being turned back and gentle fingers were running along his scar. 

‘Is it this?’ Jim asked, frowning a little and Ross cursed himself for breaking the spell that had held them. ‘What happened?’

‘Not just that. The shell that did this also turned my mind inside out.’ he confessed. ‘And now I fear I might be going mad because of it.’

‘We both saw things tonight, Ross.’ Jim was suddenly serious. ‘I don’t think you are mad. I’ve seen the same things. I was the one who suggested you come here in the first place.’ 

Ross nodded and then fell to the side. It was cramped on Jim’s bed but they managed to wedge themselves together, legs tangled as Jim handed Ross his shirt to clean his hand of their combined semen. They lay in silence for a moment and then he knew he had to speak. 

‘I wouldn’t pretend you were him.’ he finally said. ‘And you were not the only one to feel that.’

‘Good.’ Jim leaned over, coming back with a cigarette between his lips that he lit with the box of matches he had on his bedside table before turning out the light. He inhaled deeply and then passed it across before rolling onto an elbow, hand resting on the thick hair that carpeted Ross’ chest. ‘I would hope that my own charms would be sufficiently diverting.’

‘They are.’ Ross smiled at him. He was suddenly exhausted, the fatigue washing through him the same way it had out in the trenches when they’d been under a particularly heavy barrage and it finally ended. 

Jim seemed to realise this and now the hand was running fingers through his hair. His touch was so gentle that Ross’ eyes started closing of their own accord even as they shared the cigarette until it was burnt down to their fingers. 

‘You need to sleep.’ Jim moved so his head was resting on Ross’ shoulder. ‘Do you want to go back to your own bed?’

‘No.’ Ross wrapped an arm around him. ‘I’d like to stay here if I may.’ He pressed a kiss to the thick blond hair and felt Jim smile against his neck. 

‘You may.’ he replied and Ross closed his eyes and let himself sleep.


	6. Denouement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end...?

Morning broke and Ross found himself face down in Jim’s bed, sprawled out across the mattress and alone. He was confused at first, lifting his head and looking around Jim’s room. He could hear the sound of heavy rain outside, the patter of it against the window panes. The room itself was filled with anaemic grey light and he turned over to stare at the ceiling, thinking about the previous night.

They had woken some time just before dawn and this time Jim had kissed his way down Ross’ body to use his mouth until Ross had been gripping at the iron struts of the bed and making enough noise that had they had neighbours would have surely woken them. He’d returned the favour afterwards and the taste of Jim lingered in his mouth along with the cigarettes and whiskey of the night before.

He sat up, rubbing at his eyes and blinking as he tried to clear his head. Jim had clearly risen earlier and was no doubt in the house somewhere but the complete lack of any noise at all scared him and he threw back the covers to get up. He collected his clothing along the way, taking only a moment to wash his face and pull them on before sitting down to put on his socks and shoes. His head was bent over and his fingers tangled in the laces when he heard the soft giggle of children going past his door.

Ross’ head shot up and he was at the doorway, throwing the door wide as he bolted into the corridor.

The passage was empty.

He stood and strained his ears, trying to listen for even the tiniest sound but there was nothing. Then it came again, but now it was the thud of feet that were too light to be adults and more giggles. These were further away and going upstairs. Ross gave chase, running after them until he got to the landing and that was when he saw Demelza.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked and she turned, her blue eyes wide when she saw him.

‘Nothing.’ She looked exactly like a child who was up to no good would and Ross raised an eyebrow at her.

‘I would appreciate it if you told me the truth.’ He knew he sounded stern and hoped it would be enough to coerce her into telling him but instead she gave him a mysterious little smile and started singing.

_Coccinelle, demoiselle,_  
_Bête à Bon Dieu,_  
_Coccinelle, demoiselle,_  
_Vole jusqu'aux cieux._

Ross inhaled sharply and then approached her, dropping to his knees and taking her by the shoulders.

‘You know it.’ he breathed and Demelza smiled at him.

‘I know you too, Ross.’ she replied. ‘You’ve just forgotten.’

Ross frowned at her, his mouth open to rebut her statement when he heard Jim calling him from downstairs. That was enough of a distraction for Demelza to twist out of his grip and run giggling down the corridor. He watched her turn into the room with the doll’s house and staggered to his feet, swearing as he gave chase. He rounded the corner of the doorway and then skidded to a halt when he saw that the room was completely empty.

‘No.’ He wheeled around looking for anywhere she may have hidden but there was no place she could have secreted herself.

He stood frozen to the spot and then his eyes fell on the doll’s house. He swallowed noisily, still afraid of what he thought he had seen the night before, but then footsteps sounded behind him and Jim was standing there, confusion all over his face.

‘Ross?’ He looked at him, his light eyes troubled. ‘What are you doing up here?’

‘Ask Demelza.’ Ross said and then Jim’s face changed.

‘Why would I do that?’ he replied. ‘She’s downstairs with Mary. I’ve just left them both there.’

‘You couldn’t have.’ Ross felt like he was going mad. ‘She was just here!’

‘No, Ross.’ Jim moved forward slowly, as if Ross was a nervous horse. ‘She wasn’t. I promise you, she is downstairs. Come with me and I’ll show you.’ He reached for him and Ross yanked his arm away, now angry because he knew what he had just seen.

‘She’s up here.’ he insisted, pushing past Jim. ‘I’m going to find her.’ He moved through the doorway, shouting Demelza’s name with Jim hot on his heels.

*********

Downstairs in the kitchen, Mary raised an eyebrow at her charge when Ross’ bellow came down to them. Demelza met her gaze with not a single sign of remorse and ate her oatmeal.

‘He needs to see.’ she said once she’d finished her spoonful and Mary pursed her lips and have her a stern look.

‘You should be careful of pushing him too hard.’ she chided.

‘Well, he’s too shy to do anything.’ Demelza snorted, bumping the shoulder of the boy sitting next to her with her own.

‘Leave him be, Dem.’ Tom said from where he was seated on a stool next to the grate. He had a bridle in his hands that he was fixing. ‘You know it’s hard for the boy.’ He gave the other child a reassuring smile and got a tiny one in reply.

‘This has all been a terrible to do.’ Mary said, shuffling the cards she held for the game of solitaire she was playing. ‘I do hope Jim knows what he’s doing.’

‘He does.’ Demelza said and nudged the boy again, this time getting her own small smile. ‘And then we’ll have him back.’

*********

Ross crashed down to the first floor, having swept through the floor above like a madman. Jim was just behind him, breathing hard from having to run to keep up.

‘You do realise that you’re acting a little unhinged.’ He pointed out and Ross gave him an angry look.

‘I do not appreciate being taken for a fool.’ he snapped, jabbing a finger at Jim’s chest.

‘Nobody’s calling you one, Ross.’ Jim relied tersely, his own eyes flashing angrily. ‘But you need to calm down.’

‘I’ll calm down when I find out what the bloody hell is going on.’ Ross looked both ways down the corridor and then frowned. ‘That room at the end, who does it belong to?’

‘Nobody.’ Jim replied. ‘Alastair keeps it for visiting parents.’ He frowned. ‘Why?’

‘Listen.’ Ross said and they both fell silent. Now the very faint strains of metallic music could be heard and he watched as Jim’s eyes went wide.

‘Is that…?’ he started and Ross swept by him.

‘Don’t tell me to be bloody calm.’ he muttered and made his way to the door, throwing it open.

‘Christ.’ Jim said behind him and followed. They stood just inside the room and Ross felt like his heart had stopped.

He knew this place.

_The huge windows were where she’d had her dressing table, where she’d sit in the morning and brush out her thick dark hair that was just like his. It wasn’t quite black, glinting red when the sunlight hit it and her eyes were like his too, far too many shades of amber and gold and green to be called anything so mundane as hazel. She would see him in the doorway and smile, beckoning him over to drag the hairbrush gently through his own dark curls as she kissed him and held him tight._

‘No.’ he took a step back, bumping into Jim in his haste to get away, turning on him in a flash. ‘What is this?’

‘I don’t know what you mean?’ Jim protested, but there was something in his face that gave him away and Ross roared at him.

‘This bloody place!’ His words bounced off the walls. ‘What is this fucking place, Jim?’

‘You know what it is.’ Jim replied, but now he looked pained. ‘You’ve always known what it is.’ He retreated, shaking his head. ‘This was wrong, this was all wrong. I knew it wouldn’t work.’ His whole face seemed to fall and Ross was appalled to see the look of pure devastation in his eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Ross.’

‘Jim?’ He could barely breathe. ‘What have you done?’

Jim couldn’t reply. Instead he simply looked at Ross with tears in his eyes and then he was gone, turning and leaving the room.

Ross stared after him and then moved to catch up but when he came into the hallway, it was as empty as the room upstairs had been.

‘Jim?’ He felt his heart hammering so hard that it felt like it was about to burst, his stomach in knots. He started down the corridor, thinking that he had retreated to his room but when he got there, it was empty.

It was the same with every other room until he found himself back downstairs. He ran the length of the house until he got to the terrace room. He had no idea why he’d been drawn there but now he was standing by the alcove cupboard once again.

‘He didn’t want to, you know.’ Mary’s voice made him whirl around and almost flatten himself against the wall. She was there behind him, but now she wore a simple black dress with a white apron and her face was younger, unlined and her thick copper hair was pinned up. ‘Jim was against this from the beginning.’

It was like opening a floodgate and Ross now knew why she’d made him feel so oddly comfortable and why so much made sense and also did not at the same time.

‘I never called you Mary.’ he found himself saying and she smiled, her green eyes full of love and sadness.

‘You used to call me Mamie.’ She took a step forward. ‘I love you like you were my own. All of you.’

‘This was my house.’ It wasn’t quite a question but Mary nodded just the same.

‘The name was changed after what happened here.’ she sighed. ‘I was not here that day. If I had been, things would have been so different. As it was I was never allowed back until it became Trelawney and I took a post here.’ Her mouth quirked. ‘That was from before the war until 1918. The following year we lost the entire school to the influenza. I stayed and helped as best I could but…’ She trailed off and looked at Ross, imploring him to understand with her eyes.

‘Oh God…’ He couldn’t stop the feeling of overwhelming horror that filled him. ‘You’re dead, aren’t you?’

Mary gave a little shrug.

‘We all are.’ she said. ‘In one way or another. But my story isn’t the one that brought you here, Ross. This is your story to tell and to comprehend. Yours and his.’

‘Who?’ Ross was dumbfounded. ‘Jim’s?’

‘No.’ Mary said and now Ross could see that she wasn’t alone, that there was a little boy standing hidden by her skirts. She looked down at the child and placed a hand on thick dark curls. ‘It’s your turn now, sweetheart. You have to show him.’

Ross could only watch helplessly as the boy peered out from around Mary’s legs. His face was a blur, his clothing outdated but Ross knew him.

He sank to his knees, his vision blurring with tears even as the boy came closer, creeping like a little mouse. That was what they had called him, what Ross had called him and he choked back a sound of unbearable grief and blinked frantically to clear his eyes. When he did, the boy stood in front of him. He had the same dark hair and hazel eyes that Ross did, his skin only a little paler. His features now came into sharp relief and Ross started to cry, silent tears that stung his eyes and ran down his cheeks.

‘How…?’ His chest heaved with an effort to breathe. ‘I forgot you.’

‘It’s all right, Rossy.’ The boy smiled at him, his teeth crooked at the front just like Ross’ were. ‘You know me now.’ He placed his small hand to Ross’ cheek and Ross closed his eyes and remembered as he reached out and pulled his brother into his arms.

_They had been as thick as thieves, all three of them. Grace had taken to Demelza like the daughter she had never had and she had run of the house just like Ross and Claude did. She had even had a doll’s house made for her, dressed her in pretty dresses and bought her dolls._

_Ross had never really questioned why, just knew that it made his mother happy. She was always alone, his father away on business in faraway places. He supposed that was why Tom was there all the time too. It made sense to him that she needed someone to be her friend just like Demelza was his and Claude’s._

_They were happy. Mamie was kind and played so many fun games with them. Hide and seek was their favourite, and Ross always hid behind the alcove cupboard because nobody ever knew that was where he went. He always won when he was inside the tight space, him and Lapin hiding and giggling in the dark._

_Then one day, his father had returned and it was awful. There were so many fights, so many nights when Claude would crawl into his bed and Ross would sing to him, let Lapin play his little song so they didn’t have to listen. Demelza stopped coming to play and one day, when they could escape to go look for her, he and Claude found the gatehouse empty._

‘He made them leave, didn’t he?’ Ross looked over Claude’s head to Mary and she nodded.

‘He threatened Tom with having him arrested and Dem taken away.’ She looked so sad now, her own tears falling freely. ‘He was furious to have discovered the affair. I never blamed your mother. Grace was a saint for putting up with as much as she did. Joshua was cruel and unkind to her. He hit her, more than once and I was the one she confided in. Tom was everything your father was not and she loved him. She wanted to leave, to take you and Claude and go live with him as his wife, make Demelza your sister in name as well as heart. But when she confronted your father, he went into a rage.’

Ross tightened his arms around Claude, feeling his small body start to shake.

_He was running, dragging Claude behind him. He could hear his father’s shouts and his mother’s cries and knew he had to hide them. He heard the sound of the shotgun going off and then silence and that terrified him so much that he went to the one place he knew they would be safe._

_Claude was crying in fear and he refused to go into the cupboard when Ross tried to bundle him inside._

_‘I’m scared, Rossy.’ He was hiccoughing between sobs. ‘Don’t make me go in the dark.’_

_‘You’ll be safe.’ Ross pleaded. He could hear his father coming down the stairs and knew that they would be next. ‘Look, take Lapin. He’ll keep you safe, I promise.’ He hugged Claude tightly and kissed his cheek, shoving him and his prized toy into the space. ‘I’ll come get you soon, Mousie. I won’t let him hurt you.’_

_Claude nodded, his mouth turned down as he folded into the space and Ross slid the panel back and closed the doors just in time to turn and see his father coming into the room. His face was a mask of fury, red with drink and bloodlust. He had his shotgun cradled in his arm and when he saw Ross he sneered._

_‘Little runts.’ He hissed. ‘Where’s your brother?’_

_‘Not here.’ Ross stood firm, even as he nearly pissed himself in terror. ‘It’s just me.’_

_‘Just you, hey?’ Joshua’s black eyes glittered malevolently. ‘If it’s just you then you’ll get out of the way, boy.’_

_‘No.’ Ross shook his head. ‘I won’t let you hurt him.’ His lip wobbled as he tried not to cry. ‘You hurt Mama.’_

_‘I didn’t hurt your bitch of a mother.’ Joshua sneered. ‘I killed her.’ He raised the shotgun. ‘And now I’m going to get rid of the whelps she bore me.’_

_Ross squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the shot but instead he heard the sound of Lapin singing in the cupboard behind him and screamed as Joshua struck him down with the butt of his gun and stepped over his prone body to fire into the back of the cupboard after wrenching the door open._

_The last thing he saw was red, red spilling from the gash in his face and blinding him but not before he saw more red, this time spilling from under the back panel of the cupboard._

Ross held on as tight as he could, burying his face in Claude’s shoulder.

‘I’m so sorry, Mousie.’ He shook with emotion, the old nickname coming back to him. ‘I’m so so sorry I let him hurt you.’

‘It wasn’t your fault.’ Claude whispered back. ‘You were so brave trying to save me.’ His little hand was petting Ross’ hair. ‘I just wanted you to come home. I missed you so much.’

‘I understand.’ Ross pulled back to look at him. ‘And I’m here now.’

‘And you won’t go away again?’ Claude asked, his face full of hope. ‘You’ll stay and look after me and Dem?’

‘Dem…’ Ross looked at Mary. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘The reason for the argument was that Grace had finally decided to leave and take you both with her.’ Mary replied from where she still stood. ‘She had sent Tom a letter and he had replied. Joshua found it, so when Tom and Demelza came for you all, he was waiting.’ Her face grew hard. ‘He shot Tom down like a dog and choked Demelza to death like you would with an unwanted kitten. Then he buried them all in the woods and made it look like they had run off together. When I returned the next day, I was summarily dismissed and told never to come back. I didn’t know the whole story until I returned as matron for Trelawney.’

‘But what about me?’ Ross asked. ‘How did I survive?’

‘The blow your father gave you was enough to jostle your memories somewhat.’ Mary explained. ‘From what I could glean from the other staff, you were in bed for weeks. He had convinced you that your mother and brother had been sickened and died and that you had barely clung to life yourself. I think you were so traumatised you simply accepted his version of events. You never ever came to seek me out and so I believe that he simply moulded your mind until he had eradicated everything that happened that day.’

‘And now?’ Ross asked. ‘Why the elaborate ruse? Why did you get Jim to bring me here?’ He shook his head. ‘How does he even fit into this?’

‘You need to ask him that.’ Mary replied and now she was there, kneeling next to them. ‘I missed you, Ross. I have wanted nothing more than for my boys to be together.’ She wrapped her arms around him and Claude. ‘You will never lose us again, I can promise you that.’

They sat like that, all of them on the floor until Claude pulled away from him.

‘You have to go find Jim.’ he said. ‘He’s very sad.’

‘Why?’ Ross asked. ‘He doesn’t have anything to do with this.’

‘He has a secret.’ Claude told him and then put his hand in his pocket. ‘I'll show you what it is if you give me back my marble.’

Ross frowned and then stuck his hand in his own pocket, taking it out. Mary had moved back from them as well, just watching the scene unfold.

Claude smiled brightly at the sight of it and took it from him. He withdrew his own and opened it, making Ross gasp in surprise as the glint of gold coming from the object he held.

‘How did you…?’ He took the lighter and ran his thumb over it. ‘I thought I’d lost it forever.’

‘You didn’t.’ Claude leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Just like you didn’t lose him.’ He smiled and got up. ‘I’m going to play with Dem. You and Jim can come too when you are finished talking.’

Mary was on her feet and held out a hand to Claude. He took it and they walked away, and Ross watched as they faded from sight until he was alone again. Now he could see things had changed. The house was truly abandoned. Everything was decrepit, the windows broken in places and the air stale and musty.

He left via the terrace door, noting how the stones were covered in lichen and moss. At the bottom he looked back at the ruin of what had once been a fine house named Nampara, before turning and walking back to the lake.

This time it was choked with weeds and the dock was rickety and rotten. Ross walked out to the end just as he had done the day before and stared at the seemingly bottomless water.

‘I should have known.’ he said softly. ‘I have forgotten so much.’

‘You always did have a predilection for getting hit on the head.’ Jim’s voice came from behind him. ‘I remember one time we managed to get leave together and you fell out of our hotel bed and I had to go down for ice and a tea towel and play nurse for the rest of the evening.’

Ross drew in a deep breath and turned around.

‘The English master was a nice touch.’ he said. ‘Very authentic.’

Behind him, Jim shrugged. He looked different now, his naval uniform bedraggled and his skin pale from cold and the deep water he’d died in.

‘I tried to hate you.’ His pale eyes were almost colourless in the dull light. ‘But the harder I tried, the less it worked.’

‘You should have hated me.’ Ross felt the crushing weight of his guilt come back like being buried under boulders. ‘I was an idiot to ever let you go, and by the time I realised it, it was too late.’ He was remembering all of it now, the pain and the agony of hearing that the Dragon had gone down with all hands. ‘I read your death notice in the paper and felt like I was going to die too. The worst of it was that I had nobody to tell.’

‘So you went and tried to get yourself blown up, like a bloody imbecile.’ Jim’s dimples flickered. ‘I meant what I said though, the scar does make you look awfully handsome.’

Ross looked at him, lost in Jim’s water-coloured eyes as he felt emotion well up inside him, just like it used to.

‘I love you.’ he said, stating it as simply as he knew how. ‘I never said it to you then but I’m saying it now. You were everything to me and my life has been nothing but misery since you left it.’

Jim sighed and walked forward, the dock creaking under his feet. He got toe to toe with Ross and looked up at him, the slight difference in his height just enough that Ross would have to dip his head to kiss him.

‘So stay with me and let me love you forever.’ He reached up and gently ran the backs of his fingers along Ross’ jaw. ‘Don’t leave me again.’

Ross looked into his eyes and nodded.

I’ll stay.’ he whispered and Jim smiled and stood on his toes to kiss him, before pushing just enough for them to fall into the water.

This time, Ross did not fight.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are ghosts in the trees.

The car drove through the narrow country lanes slowly, it’s three occupants all silent. This was starting to feel less and less like closure and more like a pilgrimage with every passing mile. They eventually came to a quiet stretch of country lane, almost idyllic in the way the trees curved over the road. The car pulled up outside a pair of imposing iron gates, chained and locked to the outside world.

‘Is this it?’ Verity leaned to look out of her window. In the front, Dwight and Caroline exchanged looks.

‘You’ve never seen it?’ Caroline asked and Verity shook her head. 

‘After my grandfather died, Joshua more or less swindled my father out of any part of Nampara.’ she replied. ‘He was so furious that they simply broke with each other and I had no idea the place even existed until I was fourteen and we met Ross for the first time. Of course, that was because Joshua was ill and needed someone to look after him during the school holidays. They were in London by then.’ She bit her lip, tears threatening again and Caroline leaned over the back of her seat and took her hand. 

‘We don’t have to do this.’ she said, her blue eyes filled with compassion. ‘I can’t imagine how awful this is for you.’

‘No, it’s all right.’ Verity took out the handkerchief she had tucked in her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. ‘I want to see it. Maybe it can help me understand.’

Dwight nodded and got out his side of the car, coming around to open their doors and help them out. He had been the one to organise things up this end, getting help from the local police who had been so indispensable when they were first trying to track Ross down. He had also been the one to deliver then news to Verity that her cousin had taken his own life and would not be coming back.

There had been plenty of investigation but Verity had not seen the man that had visited Ross and had only had the name of the school to go on. It had come back, after a little detective work on Dwight’s part that a school of that name had indeed existed in that part of the world, but it had closed down in 1919 and the building had stood empty and derelict after that. 

Everyone had been at a complete loss until someone had stumbled across the fact that Trelawney Academy had previously been known as Nampara and suddenly things had made sense. As soon as she had heard that particular piece of news, Verity had started to realise that Ross had clearly gone home to die.

The inquest had not found much. Ross has been in the water for about four days before anyone had gone looking, but there had been an empty bottle of whiskey found in one of the deserted rooms and he had seemingly just jumped into the lake of his own volition. It had taken very little time to record a verdict of suicide, especially after those who had known Ross had confirmed that he’d not been the same after the war. He was hardly the first man to have done this, and at least he hadn’t put a pistol in his mouth or hung himself. That had been a small comfort. 

Dwight had been a godsend as well, handling everything from liaising with the local constabulary to bringing Ross’ body home. In concordance with his wishes, he’d been buried in Cornwall in their local parish graveyard but Verity had felt a need to see where he’d passed his final few days, not least to assuage some of the guilt she felt at having made him go. 

They walked to the gate, and Dwight unlocked the padlock with a key he’d picked up at the station. They police had cut the old one off and there had been plenty of speculation as to how Ross had gotten his equipment inside by himself. It had been found in one of the downstairs rooms, all set up along with the rest of his things. The only thing unaccounted for had been his lighter and that had disturbed Verity more than anything because Ross would have never let it out of his sight. 

‘Shall we?’ He didn’t bother trying to inject any levity into the situation, knowing how she felt. He was not unaffected either. Ross had been his best friend and he’d suffered as much as she had.

Verity stepped past him and started up the drive, looking around her. The old oaks that lined the drive were gnarled and lovely, their branches just starting to produce new leaves as winter gave way to early spring. It had been two months since Ross’ death and now for the first time, Verity felt like she was starting to get close to dealing with the situation. 

She walked on, hearing Dwight and Caroline murmuring behind her, but soon their voices faded out and she was left looking up at the sky through the branches and then all of a sudden the trees opened up and she was standing looking at the ruins of what had once been a grand house. 

It was huge, much larger than the modest stately home her father had raised her and Francis in and she could now understand some of the animosity between her father and uncle and all because of this place. The soaring façade was beautiful even in its ruined state and she let her eyes drift over the darkened windows and thought about why Ross had come here, seemingly to die of the police were to be believed. 

She knew a little more, of course. 

The letters had been well hidden but Verity had been nothing but thorough in clearing out Ross’ flat and putting away his things. As executor of his will, she’d been the one tasked with cleaning up after him in death just as she had in life and when she’d found the letters, he immediate instinct had been to burn them for fear of tarnishing his reputation should they ever come to light. But then curiosity had gotten the better of her and she’d read one only, the final one in the series just after Ross had gotten engaged to Elizabeth. It had broken her heart to read it and then she’d done a little more digging and discovered the truth of what had happened to the Dragon. 

Now things made more sense, the black moods and deep depressions that had plagued Ross since he came back from the Front. They had driven Elizabeth into Francis’ arms and given Verity cause for distress but she had never confronted Ross about them. Now she couldn’t help but regret every single moment she didn’t. 

‘Verity?’ Dwight said and she half turned to look at them. They were both watching her carefully, worry etched onto their faces. 

‘I’m all right.’ she said and turned back. ‘I would like to see it alone, if you don’t mind?’

‘Of course.’ Dwight said. ‘Just be careful. The house is pretty much a wreck and I don’t want you to get into a pickle if something collapses. Just let me know when you’re ready to go inside.’

Verity nodded and started walking again, leaving them behind her. 

She skirted the edges of the large lake that had once obviously served as a feature of the garden in front of the house. Her eyes were drawn to the dark water, knowing that when they had found Ross he had been resting on the bottom, the cold keeping him down there with his hands drifting up towards the sky. She hated to think that he’d been in pain or distress but Dwight had said that when he’d identified Ross’ body that he had looked more peaceful than he’d ever seen him. 

She spent some time on the dock, thinking about their own pond at home in Cornwall. Ross had always loved swimming and splashing about with them but the more she thought about it, the more she knew they had never really acknowledged the melancholy he’d carried like a well-worn blanket, even when they had been young. Now she was here, standing and looking around her, she felt like this place was oddly peaceful.

Dwight came for her a while later and they went into the house, through rooms filled with the debris left by birds and animals. The lofty ceilings meant that every little sound echoed and it sent shivers down her spine to think of Ross alone here in this place with only his thoughts and his demons for company. All his things had been taken away but Dwight let her walk around the room where they had been found. That was when the reality of the situation really hit home and she’d broken down in Caroline’s arms, sobbing for the man who she’d loved like a brother.

Now they were back outside and Verity felt utterly drained. The afternoon was still warm and bright, a promise of a long and lovely summer to come, and Caroline and Dwight were just ahead of her on the drive as they walked back to the car. 

Something moved out of the corner of her eye and Verity stopped, a call to them dying on her lips as she glimpse movement through the trees to her left. She took a step closer and as the sunlight played through the trees she could have sworn she heard an echo of faraway laughter, of little boys chattering to each other and then she just caught sight of them. They ran in a pack through the trees in shorts and shirtsleeves, laughing as they shoved each other over playfully. 

Verity held her breath, not knowing if what she was seeing was real or nothing more than her mind playing tricks on her, but her feelings lifted at the unadulterated joy the children were clearly taking in chasing each other through the trees. They faded away from sight and then Verity saw two more figures coming after them. These were taller, sun glinting off of dark hair and gold as the men followed the boys. The taller of the two had another boy on his shoulders, with near black curls like the man who carried him while the blond man held the hand of a little red-haired girl in a blue and white dress. 

Verity’s hand went to her mouth to stifle the choked off sound she made as the two men stopped and she was able to see them a little more clearly. Like the boys, they were in shirtsleeves and the ghost of happy laughter drifted through the trees to her and it made her heart ache so strongly that she started to cry.

Almost as if in response the dark haired man set the boy down and Verity watched him take the hand of the little girl, the two of them running off into the trees as giggles filled the air. The men watched them go and the darker one moved in closer to his companion. Verity watched as he slipped an arm around the shorter man’s waist and pulled him in close, dipping his head to him in a way that was impossible to mistake. 

‘Ross?’ she whispered and the wind blew through the trees overhead, making the leaves shake in a way that scattered the light and then the entire scene faded away in front of her as if it had never been there at all. 

Caroline and Dwight were waiting for her when she got to the gate.

‘I called but you were looking into the trees and clearly didn’t hear me.’ Dwight said. ‘Did you see someone?’

Verity looked back down the drive and smiled, just a little. 

‘Only ghosts.’ she replied and stepped through the gate.


End file.
